Fifty Shades of Haddock
by IselforshortIII
Summary: When college senior Astrid Hofferson steps in for her sick roommate to interview prominent businessman Henry Haddock for their campus paper, little does she realize the path her life will take. Henry, as enigmatic as he is rich and powerful, finds himself strangely drawn to Astrid, and she to him. Though sexually inexperienced, Astrid plunges headlong into an affair BOOK&MOVIE
1. Chapter 1

Part 1

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair- it just won't behave, and damn Rachel Thorston for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with pale-blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.

Rachel is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all day to succumb to the flu.

Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged to do, with some mega-industri-alist tycoon I've never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have be volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I'm supposed to be working this afternoon, but no – today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Haddock Enterprises Holdings Inc. as an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious than mine – but he has granted Rachel an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities.

Rachel, or Ruff, the name she likes and good for her taste she said, is huddled on the couch in the living room.

"Astrid, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please," Ruff begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and blue eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang or unwelcome sympathy.

"Of course I'll go Ruff. You should get back to bed. Would you like some Nyquil or Tylenol?"

"Nyquil, please. Here are the questions and mini-disc recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, ill transcribe it all."

"I know nothing about him," I murmur, trying and failing to suppress my rising panic. "The questions will see you through. Go. It's a long drive. I don't want you to be late."

"Okay, I'm going. Get back to bed. I made you some soup to heat up later." I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Ruff, would I do this.

"I will. Good luck. And thanks Ana? As usual, you're my lifesaver."

Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I cannot believe I have let Ruff talk me into this. But then Kate can talk anyone into anything. She'll make an exceptional journalist. She's articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful - and she's my dearest, dearest friend.

The roads are clear as I set off from Vancouver, WA toward Portland and the 1-5. It's early, and I don't have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Ruff's lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK. I'm not sure Wanda, my old VW beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Haddock's global enterprise. It's a huge twenty- story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with Haddock House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors, it's a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk into the enormous- and frankly intimidating- glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blond young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She's wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

"I'm here to see Mr. Haddock. Astrid Hofferson for Rachel Thorston."

"Excuse me one moment, Miss Hofferson."She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I'd borrowed one of Ruff's formal blazers rather than wear my navy blue jacket. I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots and a blue sweater. For me, this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn't intimidate me.

"Ms. Thorston is expected. Please sign in here, Ms. Hofferson. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor." She smile kindly at me, amused no doubt, as I sign in.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can't help my smirk. Surely it's obvious that I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I inwardly sign. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed that I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I'm in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I'm confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impeccably in black and white who rises to greet me.

"Miss Steele, could you wait here, please?" She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chair around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It's a stunning vista, and I'm momentarily paralyzed by the view. Wow.

I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel, and go through them, inwardly cursing Ruff for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I'm about to interview. He could be a ninety or he could be thirty. The uncertainty is galling, and my nerves resurface, making me fidget. I've never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of a room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.

I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Hofferson. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Haddock is in his forties: fit tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It's like Stepford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

"Miss Hofferson?" the latest blonde asks.

"Yes" I croak, and clear my throat. "Yes." There, that sounded more confident.

"Mr. Haddock will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?"

"Oh please." I struggle out of the jacket.

"Have you been offered any refreshment?"

"Um? No." Oh dear, is blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

"Would you like tea, coffee, water?" she asks, turning her attention back at me.

"A glass of water. Thank you," I murmur.

"Olivia, please fetch Miss Hofferson a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Olivia scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

"My apologies, Miss Hofferson, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Haddock will be another five minutes."

Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.

"Here you go, Miss Hofferson."

"Thank you."

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and then both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr. Haddock insist on all his employees being blonde. I'm wondering idly if that's legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African-American man with short dreads exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. "Golf, this week, Haddock."

I don't hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark-green eyes crinkling at the corners. Olivia has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She's more nervous than me!

"Good afternoon ladies," he says as he departs through the sliding door.

"Mr. Haddock will see you now, Miss Hofferson. Do go through," Blonde Number Two says. I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

"You don't need to knock, just go in." She smiles kindly.

I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, falling head first into the office.

Double crap, me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Haddock's office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow! He's so young.

"Miss Thorston." He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I'm upright. "I'm Henry Haddock. Are you alright? Would you like to sit?"

So young and attractive, very attractive. He's tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly dark copper colored hair and intense, bright green eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

"Um. Actually?" I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I'm a monkey's uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

"Miss Thorston is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Haddock."

"And you are?" His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

"Astrid Hofferson. I'm studying English Literature with Ruff, um… Ruffnut… um… Miss Hofferson at Washington State."

"I see," he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I'm not sure.

"Would you like to sit?" He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathing.

"A local artist. Trouton," says Haddock when he catches my gaze.

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss Hofferson," he replies, his voice soft and for some inexplicable reason I find myself blushing.

Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite on me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of the thoughts, and retrieve Ruff's questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Haddock says nothing, waiting patiently I hope, as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I plunk up the courage to look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile.

"Sorry," I stutter. "I'm not used to this."

"Take all the time you need, Miss Hofferson," he says.

"Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder, you ask me now?"

I flush. He's teasing me I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. "No, I don't mind."

"Did Ruff, I mean, Miss Thorston, explain what the interview was for?"

"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."

Oh! This is news to me, and I'm temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that someone not much older than me, okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

"Good," I swallow nervously. "I have some questions, Mr. Haddock." I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"I thought you might." He says, deadpan. He's laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

"You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

"Business is all about people, Miss Hofferson, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it's always down to good people."

"Maybe you're just lucky." This isn't on Ruff's list, but he's so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Hofferson. The harder I work, the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said 'the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.'"

"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Oh, exercise control in all things, Miss Hofferson," he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me, the way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip, I wish he'd stop doing that.

"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues, his voice soft.

"Do you feel that you have immense power?" Control Freak.

"I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Hofferson. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility, power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so."

My mouth drops open. I staggered by his lack of humility.

"Don't you have a board to answer to?" I ask, disgusted.

"I own my company. I don't have to answer to a board." He raises an eyebrow at me.

I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he's so arrogant. I change tack.

"And do you have any interests outside your work?"

"I have varied interests, Miss Hofferson." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Very varied." And for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"

"Chill out?" He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it, I sail, fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits." He shifts in his chair. "I'm a very wealthy man, Miss Hofferson, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."

I glance quickly at Ruff's questions, wanting to get off this subject.

"You invest in manufacturing. Why specifically?" I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what make things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?"

"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts." His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.

"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."

"Why would they say that?"

"Because they know me well." His lip curls in a wry smile.

"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It's not on Ruff's list.

"I'm a very private person, Miss Hofferson. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews," He trails off.

"Why did you agree to do this one?"

"Because I'm a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Thorston off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity."

I know how tenacious Ruff can be. That's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?"

"We can't eat money, Miss Hofferson, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."

"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's poor?"

He shrugs, very non-committal.

"It's shrewd business," he murmurs, though I think he's being disingenuous. It doesn't make sense, feeding the world's poor, I can't see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"

"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle? Carnegie's: A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled. 'I'm very singular, driven. I like control of myself and those around me."

"So you want to possess things?" You are a control freak.

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer."

"I am." He smiles, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. Again, this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Ruff has enough material now? I glance at the next question.

"You were kidnapped, for a year or so. How far do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he's not offended. His brow furrows.

"I have no way of knowing."

My interest is piqued.

"How old are you when you were found?"

"That's a matter of public record, Miss Hofferson." His tone is stern. I flush, again. Crap.

Yes, of course if I'd know I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

"You've had to sacrifice a family life for you work."

"That's not a question." He's terse.

"Sorry." I squirm, and he made me feel like an errant child. I try again. "Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?"

"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that."

"Are you gay, Mr. Haddock?"

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I'm just reading the questions? Damn Ruffnut and her curiosity!

"No Astrid, I'm not." He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.

"I apologize. It's um… written here." It's the first time he's said my name. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosed hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

"These aren't your own questions?"

The blood drains from my head. Oh no.

"Err… no. Ruff, Miss Thorston. She compiled the questions."

"Are you colleagues on the student paper?" Oh crap. I have nothing to do with the student paper. It's her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.

"No. She's my roommate."

He rub his chin in quite deliberation, his green eyes appraising me.

"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" he asks, his voice deadly quite.

Hang on, who's supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, I'm compelled to answer with the truth.

"I was drafted. She's not well." My voice is weak and apologetic.

"That explains a great deal."

There's a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.

"Mr. Haddock, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."

"We're not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting."

Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She's appears lost. He turns his head down slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. Oh good. It's not just me.

"Very well, Mr. Haddock," she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

"Where were we, Miss Hofferson?"

Oh, we're back to 'Miss Hofferson' now.

"Please don't let me keep you from anything.""

"I want to know about you. I think that's only fair." His green eyes are alight with curiosity. Doubly crap. Where's he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

"There's not much to know," I say, flushing again.

"What are your plans after you graduate?"

I shrug, thrown by his interest. Come to Seattle with Ruff, find a place, find a job. I haven't really thought beyond my finals.

"I haven't made any plans, Mr. Haddock. I just need to get through my final exams."

Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

"We run an excellent internship program here," he says quietly. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?

"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," I murmur, completely confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here." Oh no. I'm musing out loud again.

"Why do you say that?" he cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" I'm uncoordinated, scruffy, and I'm not everything someone will want.

"Not to me," he murmurs. His gaze intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. What's going on? I have to go now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

"Would you like me to show you around?" he asks.

"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Haddock, and I do have a long drive."

"You're driving back to WSU in Vancouver?" He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It begun to rain. "Well, you'd better drive carefully." His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? "Did you get everything you need?" he adds.

"Yes sir," I reply, packing the recorder in my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Haddock."

"The pleasure's been all mine." He says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

"Until we meet again, Miss Hofferson." And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

"Mr. Haddock." I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Hofferson." He give me a small smile. Obviously, he's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.

"That's very considerate, Mr. Haddock," I snap, and smile widens. I'm glad you find me entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I'm surprised when he follows me out.

Andrea and Olivia both look up, equally surprised.

"Did you have a coat?" Haddock asks.

"Yes." Olivia leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Haddock takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on. Haddock places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives me nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The door open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It's distracting. His burning green eyes gaze at me.

"Astrid," he says as a farewell.

 **tadahh! FSoH, nice, so i copied it on it's original book(FIFTY SHADES OF GREY), and guess this is the part one, maybe I'll be doing an edits2x and some will be on the movie but whole is on the book. Fun reading? You know what to do next!... PM me or whatever if something's not right.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yes, I get what you all want to say but it's all in my plans, jeez, I copied the chapter 1 and changes will be done next. I kinda want to cut things out and because I don't like some clips in the movie, I'm changing it and copied it on it's real one, that's kind of a plan. I'm really sorry to disappoint you guys, but I promise, after I finish this one, I'm really planning to do things on my own. I just want to show you this kind of love story. And yes, it has abuses on it, love on first sight, blah blah blah, but come on, can we just cut the crap out and make things great or something? Why don't we try having Hiccup the dominant one? That kind of bad-ass guy or something? Why is it always Astrid? Astrid-the-not-virgin then meets Hiccup-the-virgin? Hiccup the loser, hiccup that kind of guy, some changes really.**

 **There's I few, I know that, but just for a change or something. Not that I don't like that kind of stories but planning something new can be adventurous sometimes don't they? You can always do the review if you don't like something on it, and I'll be making some changes on the other part. Got it?**

 **So got the 2** **nd** **part and I tried.**

Part 2

My heart is pounding. The elevator arrives on the first floor, and I scramble out as soon as the doors slide open, stumbling once, but fortunately not sprawling on to the immaculate sandstone floor. I race for the wide glass doors, and I'm free in the bracing, cleansing, damp air of Seattle. Raising my face, I welcome the cool refreshing rain. I close my eyes and take a deep, purifying breath, trying to recover what's left of my equilibrium.

No man has ever affected me the way Henry Haddock has, and I cannot fathom why. Is it his look? His civility? Wealth? Power? I don't understand my irrational reaction. I breathe an enormous sign of relief. What in heaven's name was that all about? Leaning against one of the steel pillars of the building, I valiantly attempt to calm down and gather my thoughts. I shake my head. Holy crap, what was that? My heart steadies to its regular rhythm, and I can breathe normally again. I head for the car.

As I leave the city limits behind, I began to feel foolish and embarrassed as I replay the interview in my mind. Surely, I'm over-reacting to something that's imaginary. Okay, so he's very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself, but on the flip of side, he's arrogant, and for all his impeccable manners, he's autocratic and cold. Well, on the surface. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He may be arrogant, but then he has a right to be, he's accomplishes so much at such a young age. He doesn't suffer fools gladly, but why should he? Again, I'm irritated that Ruffnut didn't give me a brief biography.

While cruising along the 1-5, my mind continues to wander. I'm truly perplexed as to what makes someone so driven to succeed. Some of his answers were so cryptic, as if he had a hidden agenda. And Ruff's question? ugh! The adaption and asking him if he was gay! I shudder. I can't believe I said that. Ground, swallow me up now! Every time I think of that question in the future, I will cringe with embarrassment. Damn Rachel Thorston!

I check the speedometer. I'm driving more cautiously than I would on any other occasion. And I know it's the memory of two penetrating eyes gazing at me, and a stern voice telling me to drive carefully. Shaking my head, I realize that Haddock's more like a man double his age.

Forget it, Astrid, I scold myself. I decide that all in all, it's been a very interesting experience, but I shouldn't dwell on it. Put it behind you. I never have to see him again. I'm immediately cheered by the thought I switch on the MP3 player and turn the volume up loud, sit back, and listen to thumping indie rock music as I press down on the accelerator. As I hit the 1-5, I realize I can drive as fast as I want.

We live in a small community of duplex apartments in Vancouver, Washington, close to the Vancouver campus of WSU. I'm lucky, Ruff's parents bought the place for her, and I pay peanuts for rent. It's been home for four years now. As I pull up outside, I know Ruff is going to want a blow-to-blow account, and she has the mini-disc.

Hopefully I won't have to elaborate much beyond what was said during the interview. I take a deep breath before entering the apartment.

"Um… before you say anything- "

"You're a goddess, this is perfect." She said, pointing me out then go back to her laptop.

"What?" I slowly take off my a-little-bit-wet jacket, still looking at her.

"I just got his email. He answered every questions." I look around to find that sheet Ruff gave me and, ugh, Gods bless really, it's not here. "So, what was he like?" she added.

"Um…" I shrug then circled the jacket, put it behind the small table and takes a seat to the couch, thinking of things to describe that guy. "He was fine." I answered straightly.

"Fine? ... Just fine?" Ruffnut turn to me and gave me that I-don't-buy that look she has.

"Um, he was really polite, and he was courteous, and very formal and… clean."

"Clean?" she snorts.

I bow my head down and goes back to look at her, what was I thinking?

"I mean; he was very smart." I nod. "And intense. he was kind of intimidating." Well, this is… new. What did I say again? "I can understand the fascination."

"Uh-huh." Then that grin look she has, did I miss the point?

She moves her chair back and forth, like she knows something new.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" She gazes innocently at me, as if she's clueless while grinning, I frown at her, like I want to punch her in the face.

"Okay," I stand up and look at her. "I'm gonna make a sandwich, do you want one?" trying to get out of that kind of conversation.

"No, thanks." Then I walk out, going to the kitchen. "You have to admit, he's ridiculously hot." I heard she said, stating the fact that that kind of guy is.

"I'm sure if you…" I stop a second, putting the ingredients I want to add in my sandwich. "are attracted to that sort of human, then." I try hard to sound disinterested.

"The hot type of human?" Ruff laughs.

"I asked him if he was gay… that was in your questions. Why would you do that to me?" I scowl at the memory.

"Because, whenever he's in the society pages, he's never been photograph by a woman. So, naturally- "

"Well, maybe he just wants to keep his private life private, Ruff."

"And now you're defending him." Ruffnut says her word like a bold word.

"I'm terminating this conversation," I added before licking the mayonnaise that sticks on my thumb.

Ruffnut laughs hysterically then gets up on her chair with her MacBook on her hand. Of course.

"Too bad we don't have some original stills of your hot, clean, 27-year-old billionaire." She then came at my site, putting her laptop in the kitchen table. "The camera loves him almost as much as you do." I glare at her but she then gave me her innocent look. "Ok, I wasn't hungry, but now I am." As she finished her words, she then catches the sight of my sandwich and brings a hand on my food "Thank you," before putting it in her mouth to make sure I won't take it to her. "I love you." She said before getting out of my sight.

I rolled my eyes and slowly walk a few step forward. And it caught my eyes, Ruff's MacBook, who still is on her google sight, in the view was Mr. Haddock. I sit on the chair and look behind if Ruffnut's there, but good thing is, she isn't. I turn around again and look at the picture Mr. Haddock has. That hot but arrogant man.

For the rest of the week, I throw myself into my studies and my job at Clayton's. Ruff is busy too, compiling her last edition of her student magazine before she has to relinquish it to the new editor while also cramming for her finals. By Wednesday, she's much better, and I no longer have to endure the sight of her pink-flannel-with-too-many-rabbits PJs.

"Astrid!" I was about to put my keys on Storm, my VW Beetle car when Thuggory called, coming to me.

"Thugs!" I smile at him widely. Thuggory is the first person I met when I arrive at BTU, looking as lost and lonely as I did. We recognized a kindred spirit in each of us that day, and we've been friends ever since. Not only do we share a sense of humor, but we discovered that both my 2nd father, Finn and his dad, Mogadon were in the same army unit together. As a result, our fathers have become firm friends too.

Thuggory is studying engineering and is the first in his family to make it on college. He's pretty damn bright, but his real passion is photography. Thuggory has a great eye for a good picture.

"Guess what?" he grins, his dark eyes twinkling, showing his white teeth and dimples ahead.

"What?" I ask.

"Portland Place is going to exhibit my photographs next month."

"Oh my gods!" Delighted to him, I hug him. "Congratulation. That's so good!"

"Yeah." He grins at me then wraps himself with his two hands.

Thuggory and I are good friends, but I know deep inside, he'd like to be more. He's good. Funny but he's just not for me. He's more like the brother I never had. Rachel, Ruffnut often teases me that I'm missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but the truth is, I just haven't met anyone who… well, whom I'm attracted to, even though part of me longs for those trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly, sleepless night.

"Can we celebrate later because I'm really late for work?" I then tried open the door on my car.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You got it, you got it."

"But um…"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," he tried to put away my left hand on the car door and open it himself for me.

"Thank you," I said and smiles at him. 'You're my hero." I said before going inside Storm.

"See you later."

"Okay," And he closes it.

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. But in reality, nobody's ever made me feel like that.

Until very recently, the unwelcome, still small voice of my subconscious whispers. NO! I banish the thought immediately. I am not going there, not after that painful interview. 'Are you gay, Mr. Haddock?' I wince at the memory. I know I've dreamt about him most nights since then, but that's just to purge the awful experience from my system, surely?

I watch Thuggory waves at me. He's tall, and in his jeans and t-shirt he's all shoulder and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, Thuggory's pretty hot, but I think he's finally getting the message: we're just friends.

Friday afternoon at the store is a nightmare. We are besieged by do-it-yourselfers wanting to spruce up their homes. Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, John and Paul, the other part-timers and I are all rushed off our feet. But there's a lull around lunchtime, and Mrs. Clayton asks me to check on some orders while I'm sitting behind the counter at the till discreetly eating bagel. I'm engrossed in the task, checking catalogue numbers against the items we need and the items we've ordered, eyes flicking from the order book to the computer screen and back as I check the entries match. I buzz came at my pocket, I get my phone and look at the screen. As a name 'Mom' pops out on it, I click the call button and put my phone on my ear.

"Mom I'm at work, can I call you back?" I keep the phone on my ear while fixing the new items on its place.

"No, no, wait, wait, I call for reason… Bob broke his foot playing golf,"

"Gods, is he okay? Is he on pain?" I tried

"I guess… Well it means though, we won't able to fly for your graduation"

"Really? I mean- You don't just come alone; you don't have to bring Bob," I gives her an option. Is it wrong to want her here? Even just in my graduation.

"You do understand, don't you darling?" I don't have a word to say anything at all, but really, I can't help to be a little bit mad at her.

"Yeah, ah, yeah, it's fine. Um, I really have to go, ok?" I said, trying to get out of the conversation, not to cry, I guess.

"I love you, Astrid." I close my eyes; her precious words give me a warm glow inside.

"I know; I love you too." I said before ending the call. "Gods." I said in frustration.

"Astrid, could you handle back?" Paul said, came out of nowhere. Paul is Mr. Clayton's youngest brother. Paul has always been a buddy, best of one.

"Ah, yeah, yeah, I'll be right there." I put the last item on its place before walking out going to the back. I look at the front… and find myself locked in the bold green gaze of Henry Haddock who's standing at the counter, staring at me intently.

Heart failure.

"I thought it was you,"

"What the- "

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Hofferson." His gaze is unwavering and intense.

Holy crap. What the hell is he doing here looking all tousled-hair and outdoorsy in his cream chunky-knit sweater, jeans and walking boots? I think my mouth has popped open, and I can't locate my brain or my voice.

"Mr. Haddock." I whisper, because that's all I can manage.

There's a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humor, as if he's enjoying some private joke.

"I was in the area," he says by way of explaining. "I need to stock up on a few things. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Hofferson." His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something.

I shake my head to gather my wits. My heart is pounding a frantic tattoo, and for some reason I'm blushing furiously under his steady scrutiny. I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me. My memories of him did not do him justice. He's not merely good-looking, he's the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he's here. Here in Clayton's Hardware Store. Go figure. Finally, my cognitive functions are restored and reconnected with the rest of my body.

"Astrid, just Astrid." I mutter. "What can I help you with, Mr. Haddock?"

He smiles, and again it's like he's privy to some big secret. It is so disconcerting. Taking a deep breath, I put on my professional I've-worked-in-this-shop-for-years façade. I can do this.

"There are a few items I need. To start with, I'd like some cable ties," he murmurs, his green eyes cool but amused.

Cable ties?

"We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?" I mutter, my voice soft and wavery. Get a grip, Hofferson. A slight frown mars Haddock's rather lovely brow.

"Please, lead the way, Miss Hofferson," he says. I try for nonchalance as I come out from behind the counter, but really I'm concentrating hard on not falling over my own feet, my legs are suddenly the consistency of Jell-O. I'm so glad I decided to wear my best jeans this morning.

"Astrid, just Astrid…They're in with the electrical gods, aisle eight." My voice is a little too bright. I glance up at him and regret it almost immediately. Damn, he's handsome. I blush.

"After you," he murmurs, gesturing with his long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand.

With my heart almost strangling me, because it's in my throat trying to escape from my mouth, I head down one of the aisle to the electrical section. Why is he on Portland? Why is he here at Clayton's? And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain, probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells, comes the thought: he's here to see you. No way! I dismiss it immediately. Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me? The idea is preposterous and I kick it out of my head.

"Are you in Portland business?" I ask, and my voice is too high, like I've got my finger trapped in a door or something. Damn! Try to be cool Astrid!

"I was visiting the BTU farming division. I'm currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science," he says matter-of-factly. See? Not here to find you at all, my subconscious sneers at me, loud, proud, and pouty. I flush at my foolish wayward thoughts.

"All part of you feed-the-world plan?" I tease.

"Something like that," he acknowledges, and his lips quirk up in a half smile.

He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Clayton's. What on Earth is he going to do with those? I cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all. His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and for some inexplicable reason, I have to look away. He bends and select a packet.

"These will do," he says with his oh-so-sweet smile, and I blush.

"Is there anything else?"

"I'd like some masking tape."

Masking tape?

"Are you redecorating?" the words are out before I can stop them. Surely he hires laborers or has staff to help him decorate?

"No, not redecorating," he says quickly then smirks, and I have the uncanny feeling that he's laughing at me.

Am I that funny? Funny looking?

"This way," I murmur embarrassed. "Masking tape is in the decorating aisle."

I glance behind me as he follows.

"Have you worked here long?" his voice is low, and he's gazing at me, green eyes concentrating hard. I blush even more brightly. Why the hell does he have this effect on me? I feel like I'm fourteen years old, gauche, as always, and out of place. Eyes front Hofferson!

"Four years," I mutter as we reach our goal. To distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.

"I'll take that one," Haddock says softly pointing to the wider tape, which I pass to him. Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. Desperately, I scrabble around for my equilibrium.

"Anything else?" My voice is husky and breathy. His eyes widen slightly.

"Some rope, I think." His voice mirrors mine, husky.

"This way." I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and head for the aisle. "What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope… twine… cable cord…" I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. Holy cow.

"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope please."

Quickly, with trembling fingers, I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, aware that his hot gaze is on me. I dare not to look at him. Jeez, could I feel any more self-conscious? Taking my Stanley knife from the back pocket of my jeans, I cut it then coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot. By some miracle, I manage not to remove a finger with my knife.

"That's impressive, were you a Girl Scout?" he asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement. Don't look at his mouth!

"Organized, group activities aren't really my thing,"

He arches a brow.

"So what is your thing?" he asks, his voice soft and his secret smile is back. I gaze at him unable to express myself. I'm on shifting tectonic plates. Try and be cool, Astrid, my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.

"Um, I don't know, books," I whisper, but inside, my subconscious is screaming: You! You are my thing! I slap it down instantly, mortified that my psyche is having ideas above its station. "Ok, rope, tape, cable ties, you're the complete serial killer." Like really, can my mouth shuts up even for a second?

"Not today." He cocks his head.

"Anything else you need?" I ask, changing the subject.

"What else would you recommend?"

What would I recommend? I don't even know what you're doing.

"For a do-it-yourselfer?"

He nods, gray eyes alive with wicked humor. I flush, and my eyes stray of their own accord to his snug jeans.

"Maybe coverall," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth.

He raises an eyebrow, amused, yet again.

"So you could protect your clothes," I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans.

"I could just take all my clothes off." He smirks.

"Ok, no clothes, I mean, no coverall." I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of the communist manifesto. Stop talking. Stop talking NOW! "I can't think of anything else,"

"Well I guess is it then,"

"Good."

I ring up the rope, masking tape, and cable ties at the tills.

"Thank you for answering Ruff's questions, by the way,"

"I hope she's feeling good,"

"She is, yeah, she's just having a hard time declaring a photo of you, yeah." I feel like I've come up for air at last, a normal topic conversation.

Haddock raises an eyebrow.

"If she likes an original, I'm around tomorrow," He trails off.

"You'll be willing to do that?" My voice is squeaky again. Ruffnut will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off. And you might see him again tomorrow, that dark place at the base of my brain whispers seductively at me. I dismiss the thought of all the silly, ridiculous…

Well I'm very pleased, I smile at him broadly. His lips part, like he's taking a sharp intake of breath, and he blinks. For a fraction of a second, he looks lost somehow, and the Earth shift slightly on its axis, the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.

"Astrid, should I help you out?" I look at my back and saw Paul, who came out of nowhere, He then grins as he examines me at arm's length. Really, I should punch him in the face but it's awful to think and also, he's a buddy.

"Ah, no- no, no, I'm good… Thanks." When I glance up at Henry Haddock, he's watching us like a hawk, his green eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth hard impassive line. He's changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else, someone cold and distance.

"Ok." Paul then releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed, then he left.

I saw Mr. Haddock putting a business card in front of me. Written there was the Haddock's company, his name down on it, 'Henry Horrendous Haddock III', and his contact number.

"Call me what time tomorrow," he said, I look at him, asking what-is-it in a look. "About the photos."

"Oh yeah," Then I get the business card and put it in my pocket. "I will."

He didn't say anything but look at me then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones. I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which he's just left before I return to planet Earth.

 **So again, I didn't read it carefully so maybe there would be wrongs again, I really hope we can work these things up and for the second time, it won't always be in the book, I have changes on it, lesser the abuse and try to make thing not so bad as you all thought.**


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

A click flashes out.

"Thanks again for doing this, Mr. Haddock" Ruffnut said, giving him a polite, professional smile. I remind myself that Rachel has been to the best private schools in Washington. Her family has money, and she's grown with confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn't take any crap. I am in awe of her.

"I'm happy to help." He answers, turning his gaze on me, and I flush, again. Damn it.

Thuggory takes several photographs hand-held, asking Haddock to turn this way, then that, to move his arm, then put it down again. Moving to the tripod, Thuggory takes several more, while Haddock sits and poses, patiently and naturally, for about twenty minutes. My wish has come true: I can stand and admire Haddock from not-so-afar. Twice our eyes lock, and I have to tear myself away from his cloudy gaze.

"How we try few with a smile… or-or not." I heard Thuggory said, before keeping himself busy taking him again.

"You do realize that he hasn't stop looking at you." Ruffnut whispers with no preamble whatsoever.

"He asks me to go to coffee afterwards." Her mouth pops open. Speechless Ruffnut! I savor the moment.

"What?" She asks in shock, then grins.

"Ruff, shhh." I said before looking at Mr. Haddock again.

Ruffnut has managed to acquire the use of a room at the Heathman free of charge for the morning in exchange for a credit in the article. When she explains at reception that we're here to photograph Henry Haddock CEO, we are instantly upgraded to a suite. Just a regular-sized suite, however, as apparently Mr. Haddock is already occupying the largest one in the building. An over-keen marketing executive shows us up to the suite, he's terribly young and very nervous for some reason. I suspect it's Ruffnut's beauty and commanding manner that disarms him, because he's putty in her hands. The room are elegant, understated and opulently furnished.

It was nine when we start setting up things. Ruff has been in full flow. And yes, free mistress, Astrid here, Astrid that, she is so domineering sometimes. I just rolled my eyes, but as I told. If only I don't want to see Mr. Haddock but I do. Wait, what?

We walk together down the wide hotel corridor to the elevators. What should I say to him? My mind suddenly paralyzed with apprehension. What are we going to talk about? What on Earth do I have in common with him? His soft, warm voice startles me from my reverie.

"So, Is he your boyfriend." I look at him. Oh my… he really is, quite… wow. But whoa… what?

"Who?"

"The photographer."

I laugh, nervous but curious. What gave him that impression?

"Thuggory? No."

"I saw the way you smile him to." His green gaze holds mine. He's so unnerving. I want to look away but I'm caught, spellbound.

"No, Thuggory is more like a family, he's not my boyfriend."

Haddock nods slightly, seemingly satisfied with my response.

"And the guy at the store?"

"Paul? No." Oh, this is getting silly.

We stop at the Portland Coffee House and got inside.

"Why don't you choose a table, while I get the drinks. What would you like?" he asks, polite as ever.

"I'll have…um, English Breakfast tea, bag out." He raises his eyebrow.

"No coffee?"

"I'm not keen on coffee."

He smiles.

"Okay, bag out tea. Sugar?"

For a moment, I'm stunned, thinking it's an endearment, but fortunately my subconscious kicks in with pursed lips. No, stupid, so you take sugar?

"No thanks." I stare down at my knotted fingers.

"Anything to eat?" I shake my head, and he heads to the counter.

I surreptitiously gaze at him from beneath my lashes as he stands in line waiting to be served. I could watch him all day… he's tall, broad-shouldered, and slim, and the way those pants hang from his hips… Oh my. Once or twice he runs his long, graceful fingers through his now dry but still disorderly hair. Hmm… I'd like to do that. The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip and stare down at my hands again not liking where my wayward thoughts are headed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Haddock is back, startling me.

I go crimson. I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair and wondering If it would feel soft to touch. I shake my head. He's carrying a tray, which he sets down on the small, round, birch-veneer table. He hands me a cup and saucer, a small teapot, and a side plate bearing aa lone teabag labeled 'Twining English Breakfast', my favorite. He has a coffee which bears a wonderful leaf-pattern imprinted in the milk. How do they do that? I wonder idly. He's also bought himself a blueberry muffin. Putting the tray aside, he sits opposite me and crosses his long legs. He looks so comfortable, so at ease with his body, I envy him. Here's me, all gawky and uncoordinated, barely able to get from A to B without falling flat on my face.

"Your thoughts?" he prompts me.

"This is my favorite tea." My voice is quite, breathy. I simply can't believe I'm sitting opposite Henry Horrendous Haddock III in an coffee shop in Portland. He frowns. He knows I'm hiding something, I pop the teabag into the teapot and almost immediately fish it out again with my teaspoon. As I place the used teabag back on the side plate, he cocks his head gazing quizzically at me.

"I like my tea black and weak," I mutter as an explanation.

"You seem nervous."

Holy crap, why the question? I'm just nervous around you, Haddock.

"I find you intimidation." I flush scarlet, but mentally pat myself on the back for my candor, and gaze at my hands again. I hear his sharp intake of breath.

"You should yet - "

"Not to mention high handed." I retaliate quietly.

He raises his eyebrows and, If I'm not mistaken, he flushes slightly too.

"I'm use on getting my own way." He murmurs.

"It must be very boring, why haven't you asked me to call you by my first name?" I'm surprised by my audacity. Why has this conversation become serious? This isn't going the way I thought it was going to go. I can't believe I'm feeling so antagonistic towards him. It's like he's trying to warn me off.

"The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That's the way I like it."

Oh. He still hasn't said, 'Call me Henry.' He is a control freak, there's no other explanation, and part of me is thinking maybe it would have been better if Ruff had interviewed him. Two control freaks together. Plus of course she's almost blonde, well, strawberry blonde, like all the woman in his office. And she's beautiful, my subconscious reminds me. I don't like the idea of Henry and Rachel. I take a sip of my tea, and Haddock eats small piece of his muffin.

"Tell me about your family." He asks. Whoa… he keeps changing direction.

Why does he want to know this? It's so dull.

"My family? Um… ok, my dad died when I was a baby, so, I was raised by my step-father, Ray… he's amazing."

"And your mother?"

"My mother is on husband number four. She's an incurable romantic." I smile fondly. I haven't seen my mom for so long. Henry is watching me intently, taking occasional sips of his coffee. I really shouldn't look at his mouth. It's unsettling. Those lips.

"You?"

"Am I romantic?"

He nods.

"Well, I'm studying English literature, so I kinda have to be." I shrug and laugh a little wishing that he gets what I mean to say in those words. "Oh, the photoshoot went well, Ruff seems to be really happy."

"I'm sorry, I can't- "

"What?"

"I'll walk you out." He stands up.

We're back at the intersection, across the road from the hotel. My mind is reeling. What an odd moment… And I'm aware that our time together is limited. This is it. This was it, and I've completely blown it, I know. Perhaps he has someone.

"You have a girlfriend, is that it?" I blurt out. Holy crap – I just said that out loud?

His lips quirks up in a half-smile, and he looks down at me.

"No, Astrid. I don't do the girlfriend thing," he says softly.

Oh… what does that mean? He's not gay? Oh, maybe he is – crap! He must have lied to me in his interview. And for a moment, I think he's going to follow on with some explanation, some clues to this cryptic statement, but he doesn't. I have to go. I have to try to reassemble my thoughts. I have to get away from him, but I need to know.

"Then what- "

"WATCH IT!" Haddock cries. He tugs the hand that he's holding so hard that I fall back against him just as aa cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street.

It all happens so fast, one minute I'm falling, the next I'm in his arms, and he's holding me tightly against his chest. I inhale his clean, vital scent. He smells of fresh laundered linen and some expensive body-wash. Oh my, it's intoxicating. I inhale deeply.

Kiss me damn it! I implore him, but I can't move. I'm paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by him. I'm staring at Henry Horrendous Haddock's exquisitely sculptured mouth, mesmerized, and he's looking down at me, his gaze hooded, his eyes darkening. He's breathing harder than usual, and I've stopped breathing altogether. I'm in your arms. Kiss me, please. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives me a small shake of his head as if in answer to my silent question. When he opens his eyes again, it's with some new purpose, a steely resolve.

"I'm not the man for you, you should stay away from me. I have to let you go." What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown up at him, and my head swims with rejection.

Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady proximity to Henry, leaving me wired and weak. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and he didn't do it. He doesn't want me. He doesn't really want me. I have royally screwed up the coffee morning.

"Goodbye, Mr. Haddock." I turn on my heel, vaguely amazed that I don't trip, and without giving him a second glance, I disappear down the sidewalk toward the underground garage.

Once underneath the dark, cold concrete of the garage with its bleak fluorescent light, I lean against the wall and put my head in my hands. What was I thinking? Unbidden and unwelcome tears pool in my eyes. Why am I crying? I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. Drawing up my knees, I fold in on myself. I want to make myself as small as possible. Perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller the smaller I am. Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

I have never been on the receiving end of rejection. Okay… so I was always one of the last to be picked for basketball or volleyball but I understood that running and doing something else at the same time like bouncing or throwing a ball is not my thing. I am a serious liability in any sporting field.

Romantically, though, I've never put myself out there, ever. A lifetime of insecurity, I'm too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated, my long list of fault goes on. So I have always been the one to rebuff any would be admirers. There was that guy in my chemistry class who liked me, but no one has ever sparked my interest, they might get a black eye or a kick in their balls, no one except Henry damn Haddock. Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Paul Clayton and Thuggory, though I'm sure neither of them have been found sobbing alone in dark places. Perhaps I just need a good cry.

Stop! Stop Now! – My subconscious in metaphorically screaming at me, arms folded, leaning on one leg and tapping her foot in frustration. Go home, do your study and get over him… Now! And stop all this self-pitying, wallowing crap.

I take a deep, steadying breath and stand up. Get it together Hofferson. I head to Ruffnut's car, I can just chalk this incident up to experience and concentrate on my exam.


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright, pencils down. Please take your final exam to the back of the classroom."

I put my pen down. Finished. My exam is over. It was 4 days since I last saw Mr. Haddock, even at that days, my thought flies and keep coming back to the 'I don't do the girlfriend thing' quote, and I'm angry that I didn't pounce on this information sooner, when I was in his arms mentally begging him with every fiber of my being to kiss me. He'd said it there and then. He didn't want me as a girlfriend. I turn on to my side. Idly, I wonder if perhaps he's celibate? I close my eyes and begin to drift. Maybe he's saving himself. Well not for you.

"Feel good?" I look at where the voice came and saw Ruffnut in her Cheshire cat smile.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I force a smile at her, not letting her know what had happened after the coffee time last week.

This is it, the end of my academic career. I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again.

"We are so partying tonight!" she grins.

"Oh my gods."

We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Ruff id more concerned about what she's going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys then suddenly, she stands in front of me, cross arm and memorizing my face. She pulled me and ready all her really natural make-ups and still trying to make over me.

"This is way too much," I said, trying to get away from her but she put her hand on my head to not let me move.

"This is exactly the right amount," She confirms, trying to put that red lipstick on after she's done with that, what's that called? Ah yeah, foundation.

"All over my face."

"That's the idea." Ruff stop from adding lipstick on me and smiles widely.

I look at the mirror and, to my surprise, Red, too much red.

"Wow, no Ruff." I glare at her, do I really look like a clown to her?

"Cabs early? Let's go." She gets her back and go to the front door.

I took a paper tissue and take off the lipstick that she putted.

"Astrid, there's a package for you." Ruff is standing on the step up to the front door holding a brown paper parcel. Odd. I haven't ordered anything from Amazon recently. "Why didn't you tell me there was danger? Why didn't you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against because they read novels that tell them of these tricks." She added with a plain white card that catches her eyes.

"That's a book from Tess of the D'Urbervilles." I explains as Ruff handed me the parcel. I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition. I am stunned by the irony as I've just spent three hours writing about the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no irony… perhaps it's deliberate. I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D'Urbervilles.

"Oh my gods, this must be from Henry."

I open the front cover. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is: 'London: Jack R. Osgood, Mcllvaine and Co., 1891.'

"Ruff, I mean, this are incredible," I whisper.

"Wow, Haddock." Ruff's eyes are widen with disbelief.

"Ruff, this must be first edition. I can't, this is too much. I can't accept this; I have to send this back."

I have not let myself dwell on Henry Haddock for the past week. Okay… so his green eyes are still haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and his wonderful fragrance from my brain. Why has he sent me this? He told me that I wasn't for him.

I repack the books and leave them on the dining table and get the wine left that we tried hours ago.

"That's the cab, okay, you ready?"

I shake my head then nod.

"Yes, yes, very."

I drink the wine and get ready.

"Good, let's go."

The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. Thuggory joins us. He won't graduate for another year, but he's in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all. As I down my fifth, I know this is not a good idea on top of all champagne.

"Ha, did you do it all?" Ruffnut shout at me over the noise.

I nod a little, tasting it inside my mouth.

"alright, with my eyes close and left hand, I'll be get to sip. One," Thuggory raises his drink, trying to be impressive.

"I got to pee." I said to Ruff.

"Two,"

"Okay." Ruff answered.

Ruffnut has the constitution of an ox. She's got her arm draped over Levi, one of our fellow English students. He only has eyes for Ruff. She's all tiny camisole, tight jeans, and high heels, hair piled high with tendrils hanging down softly around her face, her usual stunning self. Me, I'm more of a Converse and t-shirt kind of girl, but I'm wearing my most flattering jeans. I tried to stand out but Thuggory suddenly took my wrist. Whoa. Head spin. I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila based cocktails are not a good idea.

"where you going?" Thuggory asks, still holding my wrist.

"Wai- I, I got to pee." I said.

As he took of his hold and look at me before going back his attention to Ruff and Levi.

I make my way to the powder room while I am on my feet. Of course, there's a line, but at least it's quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line. Hmm… Who did I last call? Was it Thuggory? Before that, a name that caught my eyes. Oh yes, Haddock, I think of deleting his number. But wait, I have a good plan, just one call, last time to hear his voice. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is, maybe I'll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the cryptic message. If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial. He answered it.

"Astrid?" He's surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I'm surprised to ring him. Then my befuddled brain registers… how does he know it's me?

"Yep, this is me. I'm sending back your expensive books cause I have copies of those, thanks though… for the kind gesture."

"Your welcome. Where are you?"

"Oh, I'm in line because I have to pee ready bad,"

"Astrid, have you been in drinking?" his voice is filled with concern.

I giggle.

"Yeah, I have,"

"Listen, I want you to go home right now."

"You're so bossy; Astrid, let's go for a coffee, Astrid, let's go for a coffee." I mimic his voice on the last word I said. "No, stay away from me, Astrid. I don't want you, get away, come here, come here, go away." There- that told him, my courage fueled by alcohol.

"Tell me where you are." he sounds exasperated.

"I'm a long way from Seattle, long way from you." This conversation is not going how I expected.

"Which far? What's it called?" his tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak. I imagine him as an old time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old fashioned megaphone and a riding crop. The image makes me laugh out loud.

"I don't know, I gotta go though."

"Astr- "

I hang up. Ha! Though he didn't tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplish. I am quite drunk- my head swims uncomfortably as I shuffle with the line. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I have succeeded. This is what it's like probably not an experience to be repeated. The line has moved, and it's now my turn.

"I told him, right?" I look at the girl next to me. Wait, did I just hit my head or something? All that happened just now process through my brain. Holy crap, did I just call Henry Haddock? Shit. My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise.

"I'm sorry, I- "I bleat timidly in to the phone. I hadn't reckoned on this.

"I'm coming to get you," he says and hangs up. Only Henry Horrendous Haddock III could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.

"What?"

Holy crap. I pull my jeans up. My heart is thumping. Coming to get me? Oh no. I'm going to be sick… no… I'm fine. Hang on. He's just messing with my head. I didn't tell him where I was. He can't find me here. Besides, it will take him hours to get here from Seattle, and we'll be long gone by then. I wash my hand and check my face in the mirror. I look flushed and slightly unfocused. Hmm… tequila.

I make my way through the crowd again. I am beginning to feel nauseous, my head is spinning uncomfortably, and I'm a little unsteady on my feet. More unsteady than usual.

Drinking in the cool evening air in the parking lot makes me realize how drunk I am. My vision has been affected, and I'm really seeing double of everything like in old re-runs of Tom and Jerry Cartoons. I think I'm going to be sick. Why did I let myself get this messed up?

"Hey." I look for the voice and saw Thuggory, ready to give me his jacket.

"Thanks." I said, letting him put the jacket to me.

"You okay?"

I nod.

"yeah, just a little bit more… drunk." I smile weakly at him.

"Come here, stay warm," he then steps closer, putting his arms around me.

"Uh, it's cool, thanks anyway Thugs." I try and push him away rather feebly.

"I know that I don't have a courage to do this," he has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head. Holy fuck… he's going to kiss me.

"Do what?" I tried to push him, but he's a wall of hard muscle, and I cannot shift him. His hand has slipped into the hair, and he's holding my head in place.

"Astrid," he whispers against my lips.

"No." I plead.

"I like you." He confesses.

"You do?"

"Very much."

"Oh my gods."

"Astrid, please, just one kiss," His breath is soft and smells too sweet of margarita and beer. I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.

"no, no, no, no, no, no, Thugs, I don't think I- "I tried pushing him once more, turning my head on the other side. I don't want this. You are my friend, and I think I'm going to throw up.

"Dude, she said no." Someone push Thuggory to me. I look at that person.

"Henry?" Holy shit! Henry Haddock, he's here. How?

I glance anxiously up at Henry. He's glowering at Thuggory, and he's furious. My stomach heaves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly on to the ground.

Haddock grabs my hair and pulls it out of the firing line.

"Don't look at me,"

"Here,"

He takes his hands off my hair and passes me a handkerchief. Only he would have a monogrammed, freshly laundered, linen handkerchief. CGT. I didn't know you could still buy these.

I vow silently that I'll never ever drink again. Vaguely I wonder what the T stands for as I wipe my mouth. I cannot bring myself to look at him. I'm swamped with shame, disgusted with myself. I want to be swallowed up by the azaleas in the flowerbed and be anywhere but here.

I didn't know where or when maybe Thuggory slicks off back into where we mark a place. I'm on my own with Haddock. Double crap.

"Nice touch, I will launder this item," I said, still don't know what I was thinking.

I just don't understand why he's here. I begin to feel faint. He notices my dizziness and grabs me before I fall and hoists me into his arms, holding me close to his chest like a child.

"Let's get you home," he murmurs.

"I'm with Ruffnut," Holy Thor, I'm in his arms again.

"Scott could tell her."

"Who's Scott?"

"He's my brother, he's inside talking to her right now."

"Uh, ha, I don't- "

"He was at the hotel with me."

"You're still at the Heathman?"

He nods.

"Yeah, come."

Still, why?

He holds my hand and leads me to the dance floor. I feel weak, still drunk, embarrassed, exhausted, mortified, and on some strange level absolutely off the scale thrilled. He's clutching my hand such in a confusing array of emotions. I'll need at least a week to process them all.

It's noisy, crowded, and the music has started so there is a large crowd on the dance floor. The moving lights are twisting and turning in time to the music casting strange colored light and shadows all over the bar and the clientele. Henry walk over and leave me in the side of the dance floor. There I saw Ruff and a guy that has his hands circling her. The music is pounding away, loud and leery, outside and inside my head. Ruff is still dancing her ass off, and she ever does that if she likes someone. Really like someone.

Henry lean over at that guy, who's maybe his brother, maybe telling him something. I saw his brother grins, and pulls Ruff into his arms, where she is more happy to be. Even in my inebriated state, I am shocked. She's only just met him. She nods at whatever Scott says and lean closer to Henry's ears. Henry look at me them walk over without keeping our eyes unlock.

"That's your brother?"

"Not by choice, let's go,"

"Wait, what did Ruff says?"

"She warn me to be on my best behave, more like threatening me." I giggle, suddenly, my thoughts crash through my brain, fighting the drunk, fuzzy feeling.

"My heads spinning, I think I'm gonna faint." My head begins to spin, oh no.

"What? Right now?"

And it was the last thing I heard him says before I pass out in Henry Horrendous Haddock III's arms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Nice, thanks for the follows and favorites guys, got 100+ for it already (For those who followed). Thanks again for the supports and the feedbacks, I'm trying my best and wish you'll still like this story!**

…

It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed. Hmm… I open my eyes, and for a moment, I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the strange unfamiliar surroundings. I have no idea where I am. The headboard behind me is in the shape of a massive sun. it's oddly familiar. The room is large and airy and plushy furnished in browns and golds and beige. I have seen it before. Where? My befuddled brain struggles through its recent visual memories. Holy crap. I'm in the Heathman hotel… in a suite. I have stood in a room similar to this with Ruffnut. This looks bigger. Oh shit. I'm in Henry Haddock's suite. How did I get here?

Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. The drinking, oh no the drinking, the phone call, oh no the phone call, the vomiting, fucking shit the vomiting. Thuggory and then Henry, I'm wearing a big t-shirt, bra, and panties. No socks. No jeans. Holy shit.

I glance at the bedside table. On it is a two piece of paper, standing, and written there is 'drink me' with a glass of orange juice and on the other side is 'eat me' and next to it are two tablets. I sit up and take the tablets. Actually, I don't feel that bad, probably much better than I deserve. The orange juice tastes divine. It's thirst quenching and refreshing. Nothing beats freshly squeezed orange juice for reviving an arid mouth.

There's a knock on the door. My heart leaps into my mouth, and I can't seem to find my voice. He opens the door anyway and strolls in.

Holy hell, he's been working out. He's in black sweat pants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a black singlet, which is dark with sweat, oh. Henry Haddock's sweat, the notion does odd things to me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a two-year-old, if I close my eyes then I'm not really here.

"Good morning Astrid. "

I look at him, as if I don't care what's his doing. He took a bottle of water and drink it, oh gods, the way he drinks, so… manly.

"How are you feeling?"

Oh no.

"Better than I deserve," I mumble. I put back the glass of orange juice and look at him. "Did you put me to bed?" Please say no, please say no.

"Uh-huh." His face is impassive.

"Did you undress me?" I whisper.

"I didn't have much choice," he quirks an eyebrow at me as I blush furiously.

"Where did you sleep?"

Henry pointed out the bed. Oh gods, what happened last night?

"Gods, did we, we didn't," I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can't complete the question.

"Necrophilia is not my thing." He says dryly.

"So you just slept then?"

"There's nothing for me to choose to." He stands up and handed me a small plate with a sandwich on it. "You need to eat." Haddock said then get back on the place where he sits. "I told Gobber to pick you some clothes."

Wait, what?

"Who's Gobber?" I started to eat the sandwich that he gave me.

"A friend."

"Thank you, but you don't have to do that."

"Yes I did. Yours was covered with vomit."

I look at him, embarrass, what the hell?

"You shouldn't get drunk like that, you put yourself some risk last night."

"I know."

He started to stands up and takes off his shirt. Oh my gods, I saw it. 6 pack abs, that super yummy and delicious abs. Wait, what the heck am I thinking? And why is he taking off his shirt in front of me?!

"If you were mine you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week," He move forward to me and crawled to bed, eye to eye, I look at his green eyes. He looks down and took a bite on my sandwich.

I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious, she's doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being his.

"What?" I ask, acting that I never knew what my subconscious did.

"I gotta go take a shower." He whispers and rises. He then heads into the bathroom then closes the door.

I let out the breath that I've been holding. Why is he so damned attractive? My hormones are racing. I feel like squirming with a needy, achy… discomfort. I don't understand this reaction. Hmm… Desire. This is desire, this is what it feels like.

'If you were mine.' What does he mean? He did say he didn't want me, or it was just my thought. He's the only man who has ever set my blood racing around my body. Yet, he's so antagonizing too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing. One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me fourteen-thousand-dollar books, then he tracks me like a stalker.

"Why am I here, Henry?"

"You're here because I'm incapable of living you alone," He move out of the bathroom and goes back in the room, he gaze at me while his other hand leans on the bathroom side, model-like really.

My appetite vanished. He can't stay away! "Then don't," I whisper, here it goes. "Why did you sent me those books?"

"I thought I'd owned you an apology," He move forward and seat in the bed.

"For what?"

"for letting you believe that I- listen to me, I don't do romance, my tastes are very… singular. You wouldn't understand."

"Enlighten me then,"

He reaches over and runs his thumb down my cheek and across my lower lip. I close my eyes. I thought this will be ii, the moment I've been waiting for, but for the second time, he moves away and leave me like in nowhere.

After Henry finished his bath, a big man, maybe Gobber, knocked and gave me a paper bag. We didn't talk much, Henry and him talk about things then he offered me to take a shower. Getting into the bathroom, I inspect the paper bag. Not only has Gobber brought me jeans and new Converse, but a pale of blue shirt, socks, and underwear. A clean bra and panties actually to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. He said he's tastes are very singular, what does that means? Does he want me? Or he just wants to make fun of me? He wouldn't even kiss me last week, even now. Am I repellent to him? And yet, I'm here and he bought me here. I just don't know what his game is, what he's thinking. You've slept in his bed all night, and he's not touched you Astrid. You do the math. My subconscious has reared her ugly, snide head. I ignore her.

The water is warm and soothing. I could stay under this shower, in his bathroom, forever. I reach for the body-wash fantasizing that it's him rubbing this heavenly scented soap into my body, across my breast, over my stomach, between my thighs with his long fingered hands. Gods. My heartbeat picks up again, this feels so… so good.

I closes the bathroom door after I finished washing myself and putting the clothes on. I saw Haddock, sitting at table with his laptop on his front, he looks at me and smile.

"You look beautiful." He said, then closes his laptop.

I blush and stare down at my fingers.

"Gobber has good tastes."

"What are you doing later?"

"I'm working at the Hardware Store till' 7,"

"I'll have Gobber to pick you up then," He move a little closer then move his hand again, touching my lips using his thumb. "I like to bite that lip." He whispers darkly.

Odin's beard. I am completely unaware that I am chewing my bottom lip. My mouth pops open as I gasp and swallow at the same time. That has to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me. My heart beat spikes, and I think I'm panting. Jeez, I'm a quivering, moist mess, and he hasn't even touched me.

"I think I like that too." I tried to challenge him with my tone.

"I'm not gonna touch you, not until I have your written consent." His lips hint at a smile.

"What?"

"I'll explain later, come on, I have to take you home." He moves out of the room as I followed him.

We walk in silence down the corridor toward the elevator. As we wait, I peek up at him through my lashes, and he looks out of the corner of his eyes down at me. I smile, and his lips twitch.

The elevator arrives, and we step in. We're alone. Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, possible our proximity in such as enclosed space, the atmosphere between us changes, charging with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing alters as my heart races. His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bit my lip.

"Fuck the paperwork," he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, his lips are on mine. He's got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and pinning me to the wall using his hips. It's only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this. My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow erotic dance that's all about touch and sensation, all bump and grind. He brings his hand up to grasp my chin and holds me in place. I am helpless, my hand is pinned, my face held, and his hips restraining me. I feel his erection against my belly. Sweet Freya… He wants me. Henry Haddock, Norse god, wants me, and I want him, here… now, in the elevator.

The elevator stops, the door open, and he pushes away from me in the blink of an eye, leaving me hanging. Four men in business suits look at both of us, speechless, as they climb on board. My heart rate is through the roof; I feel like I've run an uphill race. I want to lean over and grasp my knees… but that's just too obvious.

I glance up at him. He looks so cool and calm, like he's been doing the Seattle times crossword. How unfair. Is he totally unaffected by my presence? He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and he gently blows out a deep breath. Oh, he's affected all right, and my very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba. I smile widely, want to giggle, to shout, to whatever. I want those lips again.


	6. Chapter 6

We didn't talk much on our way to Ruff and my apartment, he hasn't mentioned the outburst of passion that exploded in the elevator. Should I? Should we talk about it or pretend that it didn't happen? It hardly seems real, my first proper no-hold-barred-kiss. As time ticks on, I assign it mythical, Arthurian legend, Lost City of Atlantis status. It never happened, it never existed. Perhaps I imagined it all. No. My lips are swollen, it definitely happened. I am a change woman. I want this man, desperately, and surely he wants me too.

I glance at him and opened the door in our apartment and shit, there, I knew this would have happened, opening the door and the heck, the couch? Seriously Ruff? I look at the Henry then to them then at my back, shit, Ruffnut? And gods, Henry Haddock's brother? Even him saw them. I don't want to see this, in that way, I won't see her grinning on me being an innocent virgin.

I turn around and ready myself to look at her.

 _Just close your eyes if anything happens._

I saw the other Haddock smiling at me, shirtless. Being attractive to Henry Haddock's abs, very sexy body, yes, but his brother? Nope.

"Hey," he smiles, his blue eyes twinkling, and I guess he could handle Ruff for the being. He's obviously nothing like Henry.

"Hey," I smile at him then look at Ruffnut, giving her a death glare.

"What?" She said in a low voice or not.

"Hi, you must be Astrid," He offer his hand on me as I answered back his gesture by putting my hand on his on a handshake.

"And you must be Scott,"

"And we must be going, Snotlout." Henry said mildly.

"So awesome to meet you, Ruff told me a lot about you," He said as he puts his shirt back onto him.

"Snotlout find your shoes, some of us have meeting to attend to,"

"What you're doing with Mr. Scrawny here, I have no idea," he then winks at me.

I look at Ruff on her nighties, as Scott, Snotlout as what I heard Henry called him, pulls her into his arms and gives her a long lingering kiss. Jeez… get a room. I stare at my feet, embarrassed. I glance at Henry, and he's watching me intently. I narrow my eyes at him. Why can't you kiss me like that?

"Laters, baby," he grins.

Ruffnut smiles widely. I've never seen her like this before.

"I'll see you tonight, email me when something's changes," he looks at me in his serious face, oh, seems like nothing change.

"My computer's broken,"

"I'll call then; you know I have your number" He tucks a stray strand of my hair that has worked its way free from my braided hair behind my ear. My breath hitches at the contact, and I lean my head slightly into his fingers. His eyes soften, and he runs his thumb across my lower lip. My blood sears in my veins. And all too quickly, his touch is gone. "Laters, baby," he murmurs, and I have to laugh because it's so unlike him. But even though I know he's being irreverent, the endearment tugs at something deep inside me. After Henry move out, I look at Ruff and saw her smirk.

"Scott seems a nice guy,"

"Na-ah, we're starting with you, you're seeing him again tonight and that means something happened." She said, emphasizing the word 'something'.

I take a deep breath and move away.

"Astrid,"

"Hmmn,"

"Astrid, you have to tell me something," She giggle while pushing back to face her.

"I have to go to work," I said, wanted to get away from the conversation. "We just kiss, once" and I said it, me and my big mouth.

"Only one? That's odd," she said, totally break down knowing nothing serious happened.

"Hmmn, odd, doesn't cover it," I murmur, then look away, still smiling.

"Uh-huh,and a new jacket... hmn."

The day drags at Clayton's even though we're busy. We've hit the summer season, so I have to spend two hours restocking the shelves once the shop is closed. It's mindless work, and it gives me too much time to think. I've not really had a chance all day.

I remember the kiss then, that wonderful one. I touch my lips, still feeling his to mine.

Henry mentioned some kind of written paperwork, and don't know if he was joking or if I'm going to have to sign something. It's so frustrating trying to guess. And on top of all the against, I can barely contain my excitement or my nerves. Tonight's the night! After all this time, am I ready for this? My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently. She's been ready for this for years, and she's ready for anything with Henry Horrendous Haddock III, but I still don't understand what he sees in me… mousey Astrid Hofferson- it makes no sense.

I open the door and saw Henry's friend, what's his name again? Yes, Gobber.

"Hi, it's Gobber right?"

"Good evening, Ms. Hofferson, Mr. Grey will be joining us then." His voice is polite and professional. He opens the door in the backseat of the car and closes it.

The drive through Henry's at is short. We headed into a building, straight to a set of elevators. Elevator! The memory of our first kiss this morning comes back to haunt me. I have thought of nothing else that day. Daydreaming at the register at Clayton's. Twice Mr. Clayton had to had to shout my name to bring me back to Earth. To say I've been distracted would be the understatement of the year. Up there I saw him, Henry Haddock, at his black suit on, I smile widely.

"Good evening, Astrid." He said. I nod and want to say for anything, but I can't articulate the words as I'm too nervous, too excited. Helicopter? Really Haddock.

Henry opens the door and directs me to one of the seat at the very front. He shuts the door with a slam.

"Wait, you're flying this?" I ask.

He lifts his eyebrows. _Oh_

I'm glad that the area is floodlit, otherwise I'd find it difficult to see inside the small cockpit. I sit down in my allotted seat, and he crouches beside me to strap me into the harness. It's a four-point harness with the straps connecting to one central buckle. He tightens both of the upper straps, so I can hardly move. He's so close and intent on what he's doing. If I could only lean forward, my nose would be in his hair. He smells clean, fresh, heavenly, but I'm fastened securely into my seat and effectively immobile. He glances up and smiles, like he's enjoying his usual private joke, his green eyes heated. He's so tantalizingly close. I hold my breath as he pulls at one of the upper straps. I look at him breathlessly. I wasn't thinking about sex at all, no, no way.

"No escaping now," he whispers, his eyes are scorching. "November 1234, Charlie Tango is ready to depart," He said, glancing and grinning on me while giving information with the air traffic control. It all sounds very professional me. I think we're moving from Portland's air space to Seattle International Airport's.

"Roger that, Charlie Tango, your flight plan to Seattle has been clear."

I heard the other says after I put the headphone he gave me.

"Seattle? That's where we're going?" I smile widely.

Seattle is getting closer. We are on the very outskirts now. Wow! It looks absolutely stunning. Seattle at night, from the sky…

Do you always impress women this way? Come and fly in helicopter?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"I've never bought a girl up here, Astrid. Another first for me." His voice is quite, serious.

Oh, that was an unexpected answer. Another first? What's the other one?

I look down. It looks otherworldly, unreal, and I feel like I'm on a giant film set, Thuggory's favorite film maybe, 'Bladerunner'. The memory of Thuggory's attempted kiss haunts me. I'm beginning to feel cruel for not calling or talking to him.

He starts talking to air traffic control again, but I am no longer listening. Holy Thor… I think I'm going to faint.

We are now flying amongst the buildings, and up ahead I can see a tall skyscraper with a helipad on top. The word Escala is painted in white on top of the building. It's getting nearer and nearer, bigger and bigger… like my anxiety. Gods, I hope I don't let him down. He'll find me lacking in some way. I wish I'd listened to Ruffnut and borrowed one of her dresses, but I like my black jeans, and I'm wearing a soft mini green shirt and Ruffnut's black jacket. I look smart enough.

The helicopter slows and hovers, and Henry sets it down on the helipad on top of the building. My heart is in my mouth. I can't decide if it's from nervous anticipation, relief that we've arrived alive, or fear that I will fail in some way. He switches the ignition off and the rotor blades slow and quite until all I hear is the sound of my own erratic breathing. Henry takes his headphones off, and reaches across and pull mine off too.

"We're here." He says softly.

His look is so intense, half in shadow and half in the bright white light from the landing lights. Dark knight and white knight, it's a fitting metaphor for Henry. He looks strained. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are tight. His unfasten his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle mine. His face is inches from mine.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You know that don't you?" his tone is so earnest, desperate even, his green eyes impassioned. He takes me by surprise.

"I'd never do anything I didn't want to, Henry." And as I say the words, I don't quite feel their conviction because at this moment in time, I'd probably do anything for this man seated beside me. But this does the trick. He's mollified.

He eyes me warily for a moment and somehow, even though he's so tall, he manages to ease his way gracefully to the door of the helicopter and open it. He jumps out, waiting for me to follow, he takes my hand as I clamber sown on to the helipad. It's very windy. On top or the building, and I'm nervous about the fact that I'm standing at least thirty stories high in an unenclosed space. Henry wraps around my waist, pulling me tightly against him.

"Come," he shouts above the noise of the wind. He drags me over to an elevator shaft and, after tapping a number into a keypad, the door open. It's warm inside and all mirrored glass. I can see Henry on infinity everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is, he's holding me to infinity too. Henry taps another code into the keypad. Then the doors close and the elevator descends.

Moment later, we're in an all-white foyer. In the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an unbelievable huge bunch or white flowers. On the walls there are paintings, everywhere. He opens two double doors, and the white theme continues through the wide corridor and directly opposite where a palatial room opens up. It's the main living area, double height. Huge is too small a word for it. The far wall is glass and leads on to a balcony that overlooks Seattle.

To the right is an imposing 'U' shaped sofa that could sit ten adults comfortably. It faces a state-of-the-art stainless steel, or maybe platinum for all I know- modern fireplace. The first is lit and flaming gently. On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area. All with dark wood worktops and a large breakfast bar which seats six.

Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is the dining table surrounded by sixteen chairs. And tucked in the corner is a full size, shiny black grand piano.

"Do you play?"

"Yes."

"Hmmn, of course you do,"

Of course… he plays the piano too. There is art of all shapes and sizes on all the walls. In fact, this apartment looks more like a gallery than a place to live.

I walk to him. A paper?

"What's this?" I asked him, before putting my jacket in a seat, sitting on the table where he fill the glasses with margarita and a kind-of document.

"It's a nondisclosure agreement."

 _What?_

"It means you cannot discuss anything about us with anyone. I'm afraid my lawyer insists on it."

"I would never talk to anyone about us anyway," I said out of nowhere then gets the pen beside the paper, signing it. "Are you gonna make love to me now?" Holy shit. Did I just say that? His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly.

"two things: First, I don't make love, I fuck- hard,"

My mouth drops open. Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so… hot.

"And the second thing?"

"Come." He stands, holding out his hands. I let him lead me back out of the corridor. On the right of the double doors, where we came in, another door leads to a staircase. We go up to the second floor and turn right.

"It's just around this door."

"What is it?"

"My playroom,"

"Like your Xbox and stuff?"

"It's important you know that you can leave at any time."

"Why? What's in there?"

"I meant what I say, the helicopter is not standby to take you whenever you wanna go" he said, producing a key from his pocket.

"Henry, just open the door,"

he unlocks it and open the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him one more. I so want to know what's in here. Taking a deep breath, I walk in.

and it feels like I've time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish inquisition.


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh my gods,"

The first thing I notice is the smell; leather, wood, polish with a faint citrus scent. It's very pleasant, and the lighting is soft, subtle. In fact, I can't see the source, but it's around the cornice in the room, emitting an ambient glow. The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark burgundy, giving a womb-like effect to the spacious room, and the floor is old, old varnished wood. There is a large wooden cross like an X fastened to the wall facing the door. It's made of high-polished mahogany, and there are restraining cuffs on each corner. Above it is an expensive iron grid suspended from the ceiling, eight-foot square at least, and from it hang all manner of ropes, chains, and glinting shackles. By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, rods across the wall. From them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery implements.

Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slims as if designed to contain specimens in a crusty old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually do hold. Do I want to know? In the far corner is an oxblood leather padded bench, and fixed to the wall beside it is a wooden, polished rack that looks like a pool or billiard cue holder, but on closer inspection, it holds canes of varying lengths and widths. There's a stout six-foot-long table in the opposite corner, polished wood with intricately carved legs, and two matching stools underneath.

But what dominates the room is a bed. It's bigger that king-size, an ornately carved rococo four-poster with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century. Under the canopy, I can see more gleaming chains and cuffs. There is no bedding… just a mattress covered in red leather and red satin cushion piled at one end.

At the foot of the bed, set apart a few feet, is a large oxblood chesterfield couch, just stuck in the middle of the room facing the bed. An odd arrangement… to have a couch facing the bed, and I smile to myself. I've picked on the couch as odd, when really it's the most mundane piece of furniture in the room. I glance up and stare at the ceiling. There are karabiners all over the ceiling at odd intervals. I vaguely wonder what they're for. Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic… I know it's anything but, this is Henry's version of soft and romantic.

I turn, and he's regarding me intently as I knew he would be, his expression completely unreadable. I walk further into the room, and he follows me. The feathery thing has me intrigued. I touch it hesitantly. It's suede, like a small cat-of-nine-tails but bushier, and there are very small beads on the end.

"It's called a flogger," Henry's voice is quite and soft.

A flogger… hmm. I think I'm in shock. My subconscious has emigrated or been struck dumb or simply keeled over and expired. I am numb. I can observe and absorb but not articulate my feelings about all this, because I'm shock. What is the appropriate response to finding out a potential lover is a completely freaky sadist or masochist? Fear… yes… that seems to be the over-riding feeling. I recognize it now. But weirdly not of him. I don't think he's hurt me, well, not without my consent. So many questions cloud my mind. Why? How? When? How often? Who? I walk toward the bed and run my hands down one of the intricately carved post. The post is very sturdy, the craftsmanship outstanding.

"Say something please." Henry pleads, his voice deceptively soft.

"Do women do this to you or do you- "

"I do this to women. With women. Only women who want me to."

I don't understand. If he has willing volunteers, why am I here?

I wander to the far corner of the room and pat the waist high padded bench and run my fingers over the leather. He likes to hurt women. the thought depresses me. "You're a sadist?"

"I'm a dominant." His eyes are a scorching green, intense.

"What does that mean?" I whisper.

"It means that I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me."

I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea.

"Why would I do that?"

"To please me." He whispers as he cocks his head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile.

Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please Henry Haddock. And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that's exactly what I want to do. I want him to be damned delighted with me. It's a revelation.

"Please you? How?" My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. Okay, I understand the pleasing bit, but I am puzzled by the soft-boudoir-Elizabethan-torture set up. Do I want to know the answer?

"I have rules, if you follow them, I'll reward you. If you don't, I'll punish you." He whispers. I glance at the rack of canes as he says this.

"You'd punish me; you'd use this stuff on me?" I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.

"Yes,"

"What would I get out of this?"

He shrugs and looks almost apologetic.

"Me." He says simply.

Henry closes the room to his 'playroom' and takes my hand. We turn right out of the playroom, as he calls it, as we reach the one at the end.

"If we're gonna do this, this will be your room." He said and open the door in front of us.

Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white… everything, furniture, walls, bedding. It's sterile and cold but with the most glorious view of Seattle through the glass wall.

"You can decorate it however you like."

"You want me to move in?" I can't hide the horror in my voice.

"Not full time, just Friday through to Sunday. We can negotiate the particulars." He adds, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"So- I'd sleep in here with you?"

"No, I sleep downstairs. I told you, I don't sleep with anyone." His eyes are reprimanding.

My mouth presses in a hard line. This is what I cannot reconcile. Kind, caring Henry, who rescues me from inebriation and holds me gently while I'm throwing up into the azaleas, and the monster who possesses whips and chains in a special room.

"What if I don't want anything to do with that?" I said without hesitations.

He looks at me and turn back down on he's step on the floor. After we talk on my room if ever, he'd lead me back down stairs.

"Then I understand completely." He says carefully.

"But then we wouldn't have any sort of relationship at all?" I ask.

"This is the only sort of relationship I have."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"It's the way I am," he said then sits on the stair floor of his living room.

"When you said negotiate, what did you mean?" I ask once more then sit beside him, looking at him.

"I already have the contract prepared. Fairly detailed. You would review it, and negotiate what you are and not willing to try."

Crap. I've no idea. I am completely stumped. He gazes at me and furrows his brow.

"How can I know what I'd be willing to try?"

"Well when you had sex, was there anything you didn't like doing? We have to be honest with each other for this to work,"

"I… I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" he whisperly ask.

I squirm uncomfortably and bite my lip.

"Because I haven't…" I shake my head and look at him.

"You're still a virgin? I've had to show you-" He breathes.

For the first time in what seems to be ages, I blush.

"I know, I know, I just- " I squirm uncomfortably again and stare at my knotted fingers.

"You've don't other things right?"

"No." My voice is small. I peek up at him, and he's staring at me, mouth-open, frozen, and pale, really pale.

He takes a breath and move a little forward to me. He then touches my cheek and move his thumb across my lip.

"Where have you been?"

"Waiting."

"Guys must throw themselves to you,"

"They're never what I've wanted."

"You're biting your lip," His voice is husky, and he's eyeing me speculatively. He leans on me then kisses me on the lip.

Sweet Freya, is this it?

He moves upward and slowly letting go of his lip to mine. I want more!

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Rectifying the situation." He answers then slowly lifting me up to follow him.

The floor has fallen away. What?

"I'm a situation?"

His bedroom is vast. The ceiling height windows look out on a lit up, high-rise Seattle. The walls are white, and the furnishings are pale blue. The enormous bed is ultra-modern, made of rough, grey wood, like driftwood, four posts, but no canopy. On the wall above it is a stunning painting of the sea with a Viking boat on it.

I am quaking like a leaf. This is it. Finally, after all this time, I'm going to do it, with none other than Henry Horrendous Haddock III. My breath is shallow, and I can't take my eyes off him. He removes his watch and place it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes his jacket, placing it on a chair. He's dressed in his white linen shirt and jeans. He is heart-stoppingly beautiful. His auburn hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out, his green eyes bold and dazzling. He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually.

"I assume you're not on the pill."

What! Shit.

"I didn't think so." He opens the top drawer of the chest and removes a packet of condoms. He gazes at me intently.

"Be prepared," he murmurs. "Do you want the blinds drawn?"

"I don't mind." I whisper. "I thought you didn't let anyone sleep in your bed."

"Who says we're going to sleep?" he murmurs softly.

"Oh." Holy Hel.

He strolls slowly toward me. Confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my heart begins to pound. My blood's pumping around my body. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. I have to admit; he's so freaking hot.

"Let's get this jacket off shall we?" he says softly, and takes hold of my lapels and gently slides my jacket off my shoulders. He places it on the chair.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you, Astrid Hofferson?" he whispers. My breath hitches. I cannot take my eyes off his. He reaches up and gently run his fingers down my cheek to my chin.

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" He adds, caressing my chin.

The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion. The pain is so sweet and sharp, I want to close my eyes, but I'm hypnotized by his green eyes staring fervently into mine. Leaning down, he kisses me. His lips are demanding, firm and slow, molding mine. He starts unbuttoning my shirt while he places feather-like kisses across my jaw, my chin, and the corner of my mouth. Slowly he peels it off me and lets it fall to the floor. He stands back and gazes at me. I'm in the pale blue lacy perfect-fit bra. Thanks Valhalla.

"Gods, Astrid," he breathes. "You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it."

I flush. Odin's beard… why did he say he couldn't make love? I will do anything he wants. He grasps my hair tie, pulls it free, and grasps as my hair cascades down around my shoulders.

"I like blondes," he murmurs, and both of his hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head. His kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moan, and my tongue tentatively meet his. He puts his arms around me and hauls me against his body, squeezing me tightly. One hand remains in my hair, and the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind. He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes into me.

I moan once more into his mouth. I can hardly contain the riotous feelings or is it hormones that rampage through my body. I want him so badly. Gripping his upper arms, I feel his biceps, he's surprising strong… muscular. Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair. Oh Thor. It's so soft, unruly. I tug gently, and he groans. He eases me toward the bed, until I feel it behind my knees. I think he's going to push me down on to it, but he doesn't. Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees. He grabs my hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around my navel, then gently nips his way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone.

"Ah," I groan.

Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it's unexpected, and hot. My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching smoky gray. His hands reach up and undo the button on my jeans, and he leisurely pulls down the zipper. Without taking his eyes off mine, his hands move beneath the waistband, skimming me and moving to my behind. His hands glide slowly down my backside to my thighs, removing my jeans as they go. I cannot look away. He stops and lick his lips, never breaking eye contact.

He closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse. He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress.

He then stands up and removes my jeans. I'm lying on his bed dressed only in my bra and panties, and he's staring down at me.

"You're very beautiful, Astrid Hofferson. I can't wait to be inside you." Holy shit. His words. He's so seductive. He takes my breath away. "Show me how you pleasure yourself."

What? I frown.

"Don't be coy, Astrid, show me," he whispers.

I shake my head.

"I don't know what you mean." My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire.

"How do you make yourself come? I want to see."

I shake my head.

"I don't," I mumble.

He raises his eyebrows, astonished for a moment, and his eyes darken, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that." His voice is soft, challenging, a delicious sensual threat. He undoes the buttons of his jeans and slowly pulls his jeans down, his eyes on mine the whole time. He leans down over me and, gasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed between my legs. He hovers over me. I am squirming with need. "Keep still," he murmurs, and then he leans down and kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing kisses up, over the thin lacy material of my panties, kissing me.

Oh… I can't keep still. How can I not move? I wriggle beneath him.

"We're going to have to work on keeping you still, milady." He trails kisses up my belly, and his tongue dips into my navel. Still he's heading north, kissing me across my torso. My skin is burning. I'm flushed, too hot, too cold, and I'm clawing at the sheet beneath me. He lays down beside me, and his hand trails up from my hip, to my waist, and up to my breast. He gazes down at me, his expression unreadable, and gently cups my breast.

"You fit my hand perfectly, Astrid," he murmurs and hips his index finger into the cup of my bra and gently yanks it down freeing my breast, but the under wire and fabric of the cup force it upward. His finger moves to my other breast and repeats the process. My breast swell, and my nipples harden under his steady gaze. I am trussed-up by my own bra.

He blows very gently on one as his hand moves to my other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of my nipple, elongating it. I groan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to my groin. I am so wet. Oh please, I beg internally as my fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around my other nipple and he tugs, I nearly convulse.

"Let's see If we can make you come like this," he whispers, continuing his slow, sensual assault. My nipples bear the delicious brunt of his deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve ending in my body so that my whole body sings with the sweet agony. He just doesn't stop.

"Oh… please," I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. Holy Hel, what's happening to me?

"Let go, baby," he murmurs. His teeth close around my nipples, and his thumb and finger pull hard, and I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. He kisses me, deeply, his tongue in my mouth absorbing my cries.

Oh Thor. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about. He gazes down at me, a satisfied smile on his face, while I'm sure there's nothing but gratitude and awe on mine.

"You are very responsive," he breathes. "You're going to have to learn to control that, and it's going to be so much fun teaching you how." he kisses me again.

My breathing is still ragged as I come down from my orgasm. His hand moves down my waist, to my hips, and then cups me, intimately. His finger slip through the fine lace and slowly circles around me, there. Briefly he closes his eyes, and his breathing hitches.

"You're so deliciously wet. God, I want you." He thrusts his finger inside me, and I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris, and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still. I groan.

Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Sweet Freya… He reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a foil packet, and then he moves between my legs, spreading them further apart. He kneels up and pulls a condom on to his considerable length. Oh no… Will it? How?

"Don't worry," he breathes, his eyes on mine. "You expand too." He leans down, his hands on either side of my head, so he's hovering over me, staring down into my eyes, his jaw clenched, eyes burning. It's only now that I register he's still wearing his shirt.

"You really want to do this?" he asks softly.

"Please," I beg.

"Pull your knees up," he orders softly, and I'm quick to obey. "I'm going to fuck you now, Miss Hofferson," he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. "Hard." He whispers, and he slams into me.

"Aargh!" I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.

His mouth is open slightly, and his breathing is harsh. He groans.

"You're so tight. You okay?"

I nod, my eyes wide, my hands on his forearms. I feel so full. He stays still, letting me acclimatize to the intrusive, overwhelming feeling of him inside me.

"I'm going to move, milady," he breathes after a moment, his voice tight.

Oh.

He eases back with exquisite slowness. And he closes his eyes and groan, and thrusts into me again. I cry out a second time, and he stills.

"More?" he whispers, his voice raw.

"Yes," I breathe. He does it once more, and stills again.

I groan. My body accepting him… Gods, I want this.

"Again?" he breathes.

""Yes." It's a plea.

And he moves, but this time he doesn't stop. He shifts onto his elbows so I can feel his weight on me, holding me down. He moves slowly at first, easing himself in and out of me. And as I grow accustomed to the alien feeling, my hips move tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. I moan, and he pounds on, picking up speed, merciless, a relentless rhythm, and I keep up, meeting his thrusts. He grasps my head between his hands and kisses me hard, his teeth pulling at my lower lip again. He shifts slightly, and I can feel something building deep inside me, like before. I start to stiffen as he thrust on and on. My body quivers, bows, a sheen or sweat gathers over me. Oh gods… I didn't know it would feel like this… didn't know it could feel as good as this. My thoughts are scattering… there's only sensation… only him… only me… oh please… I stiffen.

"Come for me, Astrid," he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at his words, exploding around him as I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him. And as he comes, he calls out my name, thrusting hard, then stilling as he empties himself into me.

I am still panting, trying to slow my breathing, my thumping heart, and my thought are in riotous disarray. Wow… that was astounding. I open my eyes, and he has his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. Henry's eyes flicker open and gaze down at me, dark but soft. He's still inside me. Leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against my forehead then slowly pulls out of me.

"Ooh." I wince at the unfamiliarity.

"Did I hurt you?" Henry asks as he lies down beside me propped on one elbow. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. And I have to grin, widely.

"You are asking me if you hurt me?"

"The irony is not lost on me," he smiles sardonically. "Seriously, are you okay?" His eyes are intense, probing, demanding even.

I stretch out beside him, feeling loose-limbed, my bones like jelly, but I'm relaxed, deeply relaxed. I grin at him. I can't stop grinning. Now I know what all the fuss is about. Two orgasms... coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow. I had no idea what my body was capable of, could be wound so tightly and released so violently, so gratifyingly. The pleasure was indescribable.

"You're biting your lip, and you haven't answered me." He's frowning. I grin up at him impishly. He looks glorious with his tousled hair, burning narrowed green eyes, and serious, dark expression.

"I'd like to do that again," I whisper. For a moment, I think I see a fleeting look of relief on his face, before the shutters come down, and he gazes at me through hooded eyes.

"Would you now, Miss Hofferson?" he murmurs dryly. He leans down and kisses me very gently at the corner of my mouth. "Demanding little thing aren't you. Turn on your front."

I blink at him momentarily, and then I turn over. He unhooks my bra and runs his hand down my back to my behind.

"You really have the most beautiful skin," he murmurs. He shifts so that one of his legs pushes between mine, and he's half lying across my back. I can feel the buttons of his shirt pressing into me as he gathers my hair off my face and kisses my bare shoulder.

"Why are you wearing your shirt?" I ask. He stills. After a beat, he shuffles out of his shirt, and he lies back down on me. I feel his warm skin against mine. Hmm... it feels heavenly. He has a light dusting of hair across his chest, which tickles my back.

"So you want me to fuck you again?" he whispers in my ear, and he begins to trail feather light kisses around my ear and down my neck.

His hand moves down, skimming my waist, over my hip, and down my thigh to the back of my knee. He pushes my knee up higher, and my breath hitches... oh my, what's he doing now? He shifts so he's between my legs, pressed against my back, and his hand travels up my thigh to my behind. He caresses my cheek slowly, and then trails his fingers down between my legs.

"I'm going to take you from behind, Astrid," he murmurs, and with his other hand, he grasps my hair at the nape in a fist and pulls gently, holding me in place. I cannot move my head. I am pinioned beneath him, helpless.

"You are mine," he whispers. "Only mine. Don't forget it." His voice is intoxicating, his words heady, seductive. I feel his growing erection against my thigh.

His long fingers reach round to gently massage my clitoris, circling slowly. His breath is soft against my face as he slowly nips me along my jaw.

"You smell divine," he nuzzles behind my ear. His hand rubs against me, round and round. Reflexively, my hips start to circle, mirroring his hand, as excruciating pleasure spikes through my blood like adrenaline.

"Keep still," he orders, his voice soft but urgent, and slowly he inserts his thumb inside me, rotating it round and round, stroking the front wall of my vagina. The effect is mind-blowing – all my energy concentrating on this one small space inside my body. I moan.

"You like this?" he asks softly, his teeth grazing my outer ear, and he starts to flex his thumb slowly, in, out, in, out... his fingers still circling.

I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control, trying to absorb the disordered, chaotic sensations that his fingers are unleashing on me, fire coursing through my body. I moan again.

"You're so wet, so quickly. So responsive. Oh, Astrid, I like that. I like that a lot," he whispers.

I want to stiffen my legs, but I can't move. He's pinning me down, keeping up a constant, slow, tortuous rhythm. It's absolutely exquisite. I moan again, and he moves suddenly.

"Open your mouth," he commands and thrusts his thumb in my mouth. My eyes fly open, blinking wildly.

"See how you taste," he breathes against my ear. "Suck me, baby." His thumb presses on my tongue, and my mouth closes round him, sucking wildly. I taste the saltiness on his thumb and the faint metallic tang of blood. Holy fuck. This is wrong, but holy hell is it erotic.

"I want to fuck your mouth, Astrid, and I will soon," his voice is hoarse, raw, his breathing more disjointed.

 _Fuck my mouth!_ I moan, and I bite down on him. He gasps, and he pulls my hair tighter, painfully, so I release him.

"Naughty, sweet girl," he whispers, and then reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. "Stay still, don't move," he orders as he releases my hair.

He rips the foil while I'm breathing hard, my blood singing in my veins. The anticipation is exhilarating. He leans down, his weight on me again, and he grabs my hair holding my head immobile. I cannot move. I'm enticingly ensnared by him, and he's poised and ready to take me once more.

"We're going to go real, slow this time, Astrid," he breathes.

And slowly he eases into me, slowly, slowly, until he's buried in me. Stretching, filling, relentless. I groan loudly. It feels deeper this time, delectable. I groan again, and he deliberately circles his hips and pulls back, pauses a beat, and then eases his way back in.

He repeats this motion again and again. It's driving me insane – his teasing, deliberately slow thrusts, and the intermittent feeling of fullness is overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groans, and my insides start to quiver. He pulls back and waits. "Oh no, baby, not yet," he murmurs, and as the quivering ceases, he starts the whole delicious process again.

"Oh, please," I beg. I'm not sure I can take much more. My body is wound so tight, craving release.

"I want you sore, baby," he murmurs, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward. "Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine."

I groan.

"Please, Henry," I whisper.

"What do you want, Astrid? Tell me."

I groan again. He pulls out and moves slowly back into me, circling his hips once more.

"Tell me," he murmurs.

"You, please."

He increases the rhythm infinitesimally, and his breathing becomes more erratic. My insides start quickening, and Henry picks up the rhythm.

"You. Are. So. Sweet," he murmurs between each thrust. "I. Want. You. So. Much."

I moan.

"You. Are. Mine. Come for me, baby," he growls.

His words are my undoing, tipping me over the precipice. My body convulses around him, and I come, loudly calling out a garbled version of his name into the mattress, and Henry follows with two sharp thrusts, and he freezes, pouring himself into me as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, his face in my hair.

"Fuck. Astrid," he breathes. He pulls out of me immediately and rolls onto his side of the bed. I pull my knees up to my chest, utterly spent, and immediately drift off or pass out into an exhausted sleep.

When I wake, it's still dark. I have no idea how long I've slept. I stretch out beneath the duvet, and I feel sore, deliciously sore. Henry is nowhere to be seen. I sit up, staring out at the cityscape in front of me. There are fewer lights on amongst the skyscrapers, and there's a whisper of dawn in the east. I hear the music. The lilting notes of the piano, a sad, sweet lament. Bach, I think, but I'm not sure.

I wrap the duvet round me and quietly pad down the corridor toward the big room. Henry is at the piano, completely lost in the music he's playing. His expression is sad and forlorn, like the music. His playing is stunning. Leaning against the wall at the entrance, I listen enraptured. He's such an accomplished musician. He sits naked, his body bathed in the warm light cast by a solitary freestanding lamp beside the piano. With the rest of the large room in darkness, it's like he's in his own isolated little pool of light, untouchable... lonely, in a bubble.

I pad quietly toward him, enticed by the sublime, melancholy music. I'm mesmerized watching his long skilled fingers as they find and gently press the keys, thinking how those same fingers have expertly handled and caressed my body. I flush and gasp at the memory and press my thighs together. He glances up, his unfathomable green eyes bright, his expression unreadable.

I move forward as he keeps playing, I noticed now that his wearing PJ pants. I stop in his back but then, he stops playing and hold my hand to move myself to face him. He slowly pushes away the duvet that covers my nakedness, as I, his slave, sits in his lap and kisses him dearly. I let him move me to his bed and takes me once more.

…

 **Another one is finished, thanks for all the support and yeah, late update. But it's the longest! Hahaha, for now… Anyway, I want to thank OPAYYAP for all the things she helped me... lol, love it and it helped a lot. Once again, review if somethings not right or you like it or blah blah blah.**


	8. Chapter 8

Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I open my eyes. It's a beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Henry Haddock is fast asleep. Wow, what a view. I'm surprised he's still in bed. He's facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, relaxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this good and still be legal? I re-member his room upstairs... perhaps he's not legal. I shake my head, so much to think about. It's tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he's so lovely when he's asleep. I don't have to worry about what I'm saying, what he's saying, what plans he has, especially his plans for me.

I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs – bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white shirt on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I'm in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, and ties. How can anyone need this many clothes? I tut with disapproval. Actually, Ruff's wardrobe probably rivals this. Ruff! Oh no. I didn't think about her all evening. I was supposed to text her. Crap.

Returning to the bedroom, Henry is still asleep. I try the other door. It's the bathroom, and it's bigger than my bedroom. Why does one man need so much space? Two sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn't sleep with anyone, one of them can't have been used.

I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel different. I feel a little sore, if I'm honest, and my muscles - jeez it's like I've never done any exercise in my life. You don't do any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken.

She's staring at me with pursed lips, tapping her foot. So you've just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn't love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.

ARE YOU CRAZY? She's shouting at me.

I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man who's beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder. I'm bewildered and confused. My hair is its usual wayward self. Just-fucked hair doesn't suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up – maybe I'll find hair ties in my purse.

I'm starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave him and head for the kitchen.

I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pig-tails. Yes! The more girly I look, perhaps the safer I'll be from Bluebeard. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my headphones in. There's nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Henry's shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.

Holy hell, I'm hungry.

I am daunted by his kitchen. It's so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard doors to open them. Perhaps I should cook Henry breakfast. Jeez, so much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way round the kitchen.

Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. Music blaring in my ears also helps to stave off deep thought. I came here to spend the night in Henry Haddock's bed, and managed it, even though he doesn't let anyone in his bed. I smile, mission accomplished. Big time. I grin. Big, big time, and I'm distracted by the memory of last night. His words, his body, his lovemaking... I close my eyes as my body hums at the recollection, and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly. My subconscious scowls at me... _fucking – not lovemaking_ – she screams at me like a harpy. I ignore her, but deep down I know she has a point. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at hand.

There is a state-of-the-art range. I think I have the hang of it. I need somewhere to keep the pancakes warm, and I start on the bacon. Amy Studt is singing in my ear about misfits. This song used to mean so much to me, that's because I'm a misfit. I have never fitted in anywhere and now... I have an indecent proposal to consider from King Misfit himself. Why is he this way? Nature or Nurture? It's so alien to anything I know.

I put the bacon under the grill, and while it's cooking, I whisk some eggs. I turn, and Henry is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, his face supported by his steepled hands. He's still wearing the t-shirt he's slept in. Just-fucked hair really, really suits him, as does his designer stubble. He looks both amused and bewildered. I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the sight of him.

"You're very energetic this morning," he says dryly.

"You hungry?"

"Very," he says with an intense look, and I don't think he's referring to food.

"Cause' I'm making pancakes,"

He grins.

"This is delicious, incidentally," he grins at me.

"I only do pancakes, all the cooking and stuffs are not my thing. Mom tried to teach me but, for all her hard works, she fails."

"My mother also does trains me back then, Snotlout's not the type for that thing because he does like to play games and games only. Have I told you Snotlout is my cousin?"

Did I thought wrong?

"I thought he's your brother?"

"Adopted when his father died,"

"His mom?" I ask once more. Now these things are interesting.

"Died when he was a child,"

"Oh," now that's a revelation.

"I've got a sister who's in Paris, adopted when she was a babe. After they found me, I seems to have something that I can't explain. I kinda lost out of friend, scrawny and people starts calling me Hiccup for- "

"Wait, wait, Hiccup?" I giggle. It's cute.

"Enemy fight and I was friendless that time, no one understands scrawny," he tried to explain, death glaring me.

"So, Hiccup?"

"Stop laughing,"

Now he's annoyed, aww, how cute of he.

"Oh gods, the CEO of Haddock's company, Hiccup!" I point on him, like introducing him.

"Astrid," his voice a warning.

Crap. Now stop Astrid.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll stop," I said, biting my lips to stop me from giggling.

"Stop biting your lip. It's very distracting, and I happen to know you're not wearing anything under my shirt which makes it even more distracting," he growls.

My eyes widen, what?

I look at the table and tried drinking the orange juice in the table. He steals the drink and put it in the table. I lick my thumb on the left side of the hand, I then notice that Henry took my right hand and put my fingers one by one on his mouth.

"Let's get you clean up," he whispers huskily, kissing my pinky and thumb.

The bath is a white stone, deep, egg-shaped affair, very designer. Henry sits on a white chair and a mirror in front of him. I could feel his stares against my back, I look at him in my left and saw him peeling his t-shirt off and casting it on the floor.

I slowly unbutton his shirt in me and slowly letting it down itself. I scoot down into the warm, welcoming water. Ooh… it stings. Which takes me by surprise, but it smells heavenly too, and the initial smarting pain soon ebbs away. I lie back and briefly close my eyes, relaxing in the soothing warmth.

The water rises as he sits and pulls me against his chest. A tremor runs through my whole body. I am naked, in a bath with Henry Haddock. He's naked. If someone had told me I'd be doing this when I woke up in his hotel suite yesterday, I would not have believed them.

He was in my back and I can feel his thing in my butt. He gets the sponge and squeeze it up my breasts. I lay down to him.

His hands glide across to my breasts, and I inhale sharply as his fingers encircle them and start kneading gently, taking no prisoners. My body bows instinctively, pushing my breasts into his hands. My nipples are tender. Very tender, no doubt from his less-than-delicate treatment of them last night. He doesn't linger long and glides his hands down to my stomach and belly. My breathing increases, and my heart is racing. His growing erection presses against my behind. It's such a turn-on knowing that it's my body making him feel this way. Ha… not your mind. My subconscious sneers. I shake off the unwelcome thought.

He stops and reaches for a washcloth as I pant against him, wanting… needing. My hands rest on his firm, muscular thighs. Squirting more soap on to the washcloth, he leans down and washes between my legs. I hold my breath. His fingers skillfully stimulating me through the cloth, it's heavenly, and my hips start moving at their own rhythm, pushing against his hand. As the sensations take over, I tilt my head back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth slack, and I groan. The pressure is building slowly, inexorably inside me.

"Feel it, baby," Henry whispers in my ear and very gently grazes my earlobe with his teeth. "Feel it for me." My legs are pinioned by his to the side of the bath, holding me prisoner, giving him easy access to this most private part of myself.

"Hiccup," Shit, what did I say?

I try to stiffen my legs as my body goes rigid. I am in a sexual thrall to this man, and he doesn't let me move.

"It's hot thinking that your moaning that nickname on me." He said seductively.

 _Is this the time I should call you that then?_

"I think you're clean enough now," he murmurs. and he stops. What! No! No! No!

My breathing is ragged.

"Why are you stopping?" I gasp.

"Because I have other plans for you Astrid."

What… oh Thor… but… I was… that's not fair.

"Turn around. I need washing, too," he murmurs.

I turn to face him and Odin's beard!

 _It's so big and growing_. His erection is above the water line, the water lapping at his hips. I glance up at him and come face to face with his wicked grin. He's enjoying my astounded expression. I realize that I'm staring. I swallow. _That was inside me!_ It doesn't seem possible.

I smile at him and reach for the body wash, squirting some soap onto my hand. I do as he's done, lathering the soap in my hands until they are foamy. I do not take my eyes off his. My lips are parted to accommodate my breathing… very deliberately I gently bite my bottom lip and then run my tongue across it, tracing where my teeth have been. His eyes are serious and dark, and they widen as my tongue skims my lower lip. I reach forward and place one of my hands around him, mirroring how he's holding himself. His eyes close briefly. Wow… feels much firmer than I expect. I squeeze, and he places his hand over mine.

"Like this," he whispers, and he moves his hand up and down with a firm grip round my fingers, and my fingers tighten around him. He closes his eyes again, and his breath hitches in his throat. When he opens them again, his gaze is scorching molten green. "That's right, baby."

He releases my hand, leaving me to continue alone, and closes his eyes as I move up and down his length. He flexes his hips slightly into my hand and reflexively I grasp him tighter. A low groan escapes from deep within his throat. Fuck my mouth… hmm. I remember him pushing his thumb in my mouth and asking me to suck, hard. His mouth drops open slightly as his breathing increases. I lean forward, while he has his eyes closed, and place my lips around him and tentatively suck, running my tongue over the tip.

"Whoa… Astrid." His eyes fly open, and I suck harder. Hmm… he's soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tasty – salty and smooth. "Gods," he groans, and he closes his eyes again. Moving down, I push him into my mouth. He groans again. Ha! My inner goddess is thrilled. I can do this. I can fuck him with my mouth. I twirl my tongue around the tip again, and he flexes his hips. His eyes are open now, blistering with heat. His teeth are clenched as he flexes again, and I push him deeper into my mouth, supporting myself on his thighs. I feel his legs tense beneath my hands. He reaches up and grabs my pigtails and starts to really move.

"Astrid, I'm going to come in your mouth," his breathy tone is warning. "If you don't want me to, stop now." He flexes his hips again, his eyes are wide, wary, and filled with salacious need – need for me.

Holy crap. His hands are really gripping my hair. I push even harder and, in a moment of extraordinary confidence, I bare my teeth. It tips him over the edge. He cries out and stills, and I can feel warm, salty liquid oozing down my throat. I swallow quickly. Ugh… I'm not sure about this. But one look at him, and he's come apart in the bath because of me, and I don't care. I sit back and watch him, a triumphant, gloating smile tugging at the corners of my lips. His breathing is ragged. Opening his eyes, he glares at me.

"Don't you have a gag reflex?" he asks, astonished. "Gods, Astrid… that was… good, really good, unexpected though." He frowns. "You know; you never cease to amaze me."

I smile and consciously bite my lip. He eyes me speculatively.

"Have you done that before?"

"No." And I can't help the small tinge of pride in my denial.

"Good," he says complacently and, I think, relieved. "Yet another first, Miss Hofferson." He looks appraisingly at me. "Come, let's go to bed."

Quickly, he clambers out of the bath, giving me my first full glimpse of the Adonis, divinely formed, that is Henry Haddock. My inner goddess has stopped dancing and is staring too, mouth open and drooling slightly. His erection tamed, but still substantial. He wraps a small towel around his waist, covering the essentials, and holds out a larger fluffy white towel for me. Climbing out of the bath, I take his proffered hand. He wraps me in the towel, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I long to reach round and embrace him… touch him… but he has my arms trapped in the towel. I'm soon lost in his kiss. He cradles my head, his tongue exploring my mouth.

He pulls away, his hands on either side of my face, staring intently into my eyes. He looks lost.

He kisses me again, sweetly, passionately, before he stands back and stares at me, blinking slightly. He takes my hand and leads me back to his bedroom, leaving me reeling, so I follow him meekly. Stunned. He really wants this. In his bedroom, he stares down at me as we stand by his bed.

"Trust me?" he asks suddenly. I nod, wide-eyed with the sudden realization that I do trust him. What's he going to do to me now? An electric thrill hums through me. He runs his fingers down my pigtails and let it out. I shake my head to let my hair go back to its unpigatailed position.

"Stay still," he breathes, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

He steps away into his closet and comes back with a silver-grey silk woven tie.

"Hold out your wrist," he orders as he peels the towel off me and throws it on the floor. I do as he asks, and he binds my wrists together with his tie, knotting it firmly. His eyes are bright with wild excitement. He tugs at the binding. It's secure. Some boy scout he must have been to learn these knots.

What now? My pulse has gone through the roof, my heart beating a frantic tattoo.

"Hold them there, understood?" he murmurs and moves forward. Instinctively, I move back until I feel the bed against the back of my knees. He lowers me on to the bed, lying on top of me, and raising my hands above my head. "Tell me you understand." His eyes burn into mine, and I'm breathless from their intensity. This is not a man I want to cross… ever

"I won't move my hands." I'm breathless.

"Good girl," he murmurs and deliberately licks his lips slowly. I'm mesmerized by his tongue as it sweeps slowly over his upper lip. He's staring into my eyes, watching me, appraising.

His lips glide down my throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping, to the small dip at the base of my neck. My body leaps to attention… everywhere. My recent bath experience has made my skin hyper-sensitive. My heated blood pools low in my belly, between my legs, right down there. I groan.

I want to touch him. I move my hands and rather awkwardly, given I'm restrained, feel his hair. He stops kissing me reaches for my hands and places them above my head again. "Stay still." he scolds me mildly.

Oh, he's such a tease.

"Say yes," he whispers fervently. I frown, not understanding.

"To what?"

"To being mine," he whispers.

I know in that moment that I would do anything for this man. I am his. The wonder that he's introduced me to, it's beyond anything I could have imagined.

I could feel his breath into my womanhood then suddenly, a woman's voice was heard.

" _Henry."_

Hiccup blinks rapidly, staring up at me, wide-eyed with humored horror.

"Shit!"

"What?"

"It's my mother," he said

"I'm naked," I giggle. What a moment, seriously? Hiccup's mom?

"Get dress." He commands and get off of me.

He hurriedly takes the tie in my wrist and move out of the bed, he then puts a PJ and t-shirt and look at me, nodding his head as a sign that he'll go outside.

I move out of the bed and take the shirt that I used when I woke up, hurriedly putting it and a black jean I saw in a chair next to his bed.

" _No need to show me around, no need to hover,"_

" _He's sleeping Dr. Haddock,"_

" _Stop the formality, Gobber and he's sleeping? He never sleeps in, certainly not at this hour. Unless of course he is ill? Is he- Ah."_

" _Sorry Hiccup,"_

" _Don't be too formal, Gobber, I know how she can be."_

" _She? Darling, you can try to avoid me, but the least you can do is call me by my name, which is 'mom'."_

The words I heard before I walk-run to them.

"Hi." I said after seeing a woman beside Hiccup, his mother, I guess.

The sandy-haired woman beside him turns and beams at me, a full megawatt smile. She stands too. She's impeccably attired in a camel-colored fine knit sweater dress with matching shoes. She looks groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.

"Oh, dear gods."

"Mother, Astrid Hofferson. Astrid, meet my mother, Dr. Valka Jorgenson Haddock."

"You have no idea how delightful I am to meet you," she murmurs. If I'm not mistaken, there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her hazel eyes. I grasp her hand, and I can't help but smile, returning her warmth.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Haddock," I murmur.

"Valka, she's very pretty, you're very pretty." she grins, looking both of us. She looks at me again and gives me a wink.

"Thanks."

"What happened to calling before dropping by?"

We followed Henry in the living room, I saw him sitting in a chair while looking at his mom intensively.

"And have Gobber give me the run around here, no thank you, I'll take my chances. Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought perhaps we could have lunch."

"I can't today, I have to drive Astrid home," he said, pointing at me.

Out of nowhere, my cell phone starts ringing. Ruff, I bet.

"It's okay, take it, I was just showing mother out."

"Excuse me." And bow my head to them and move to the left to get my phone in the kitchen.

…..

 **Another chapter, just trying to move fast… thanks for the fast comments guys. Really appreciated it a lot. I tried trying to change the scenery and also because I haven't put how Astrid found out what Hiccup's name is... so it's lousy, and not a good talking, I know… but I don't have any scenery in mind… wish you like it**


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